The Night Of Getting Dangerous
by SilverShadow44
Summary: Drake Mallard's beloved adopted daughter Gosalyn is up to her beak in trouble again! Can Darkwing save her from Megavolt and Count Manzeppi with help from the Secret Service's two finest agents? Let's get . . . to this year's April Fool's Day story! Enjoy!
1. Duck Flight

**The Night of Getting Dangerous**

"Grounded for two whole weeks! Grounded – again!"

Gosalyn Mallard was a girl who had spirit. She also had suction cup boots, and didn't look very grounded at all to Honker as she stomped across the ceiling of her bedroom.

"I mean, can you believe that?" she fumed.

He sure could. The most amazing part of the whole conversation, to Honker, wasn't the fact that his best friend and homework partner stared down at him from ten feet overhead and upside down. It wasn't even what Gosalyn had done to get punished either – extreme mischief was par for the course with her. No, what amazed him the most was that her punishment had been set at only two weeks. If Honker's parents had caught _him_ trying to help catch a gang of bank robbers, Honker was pretty sure he'd be grounded for the rest of his life! Then again, he was also pretty sure his parents didn't wear costumes except at Halloween and they didn't (as far as he knew) go hunting after criminals. Herb and Binkie Muddlefoot might scold litterbugs caught in the act, but that was about it.

Gosalyn didn't think her punishment was too light though.

"What good is having a superhero dad when he never lets you be his sidekick?" she complained.

"But Launchpad is his sidekick," Honker pointed out, sniffling. "Besides *honk* maybe he wants to keep you safe."

"Safe shmafe!" Gosalyn flapped. "He just doesn't want to let me have any fun!"

Neither did the ceiling plaster, because at that moment it gave way. Luckily Gosalyn had marched herself over the bed, so as plaster and suction cups peeled loose, she fell onto that soft, springy surface before somersaulting and landing upright without batting an eye.

"Ta da!' she cried, as if she'd intended the fall and quick acrobatics to happen on purpose. Darkwing couldn't have done it with more showmanship himself.

Honker, who should have known better, clapped obediently.

"See?" she said, suction-cupping her way over to her dresser. "I'm totally ready for this stuff now! I can fight crime too! That whole growing up thing is for grown-ups!"

Sometimes Gosalyn's logic could be hard to argue with. But Honker still tried to raise an objection as he saw her wrap a used towel from the floor around her neck and try to flap it like a cape.

"Uh, may- maybe we could concentrate on our homework . . . ." he suggested.

"Homework!" Gosalyn spat it out like a swear word. "What kind of superhero does homework?"

_The kind that wants to stay alive_, Honker thought to himself. Gosalyn wasn't listening though. She was putting on a leftover Halloween eye mask to go with her makeshift towel cape and suction cup boots. Then she did something that alarmed Honker most of all – from behind the dresser, she pulled out a bow and quiver of arrows that looked all too familiar from her short-lived masquerade as Quiverwing Quack and his (very reluctant) turn as _her_ sidekick.

"Your dad didn't take those away from you?" he gasped.

"Sure he did," she admitted. "But I found where he hid them, so I took them and hid them right back! And now it's time I put them to good use! He said I'd become a great superhero someday! Well maybe someday is now!"

"But-"

She shot him a sharp look but fortunately no arrows as she turned around and began suction-cupping her way over to the bedroom window.

"Aw, c'mon, Honk, you're not going to tattle on me now, are you?"

The last time 'Quiverwing Quack' had made a daring escape from her bedroom via the window, she'd caught Honker in a net arrow to keep him from tattling. He sure didn't want to get netted again, even if the net hadn't held him for very long. To his relief, she wasn't reaching for an arrow this time, though they both knew what the answer to her question was.

"At least give me a head start!" she pleaded. "I mean, it's my destiny we're talking about here!"

And his too, he realized. He'd never forgive himself if he let anything happen to his best friend. But they both also knew he had little chance of stopping her from going if she wanted.

"A head start, that's all I'm asking," she begged. "Like when we're playing hide and seek and you're It."

Honker wasn't happy, but at least it was better than being netted. With a sigh of sad resignation, he closed his eyes and began counting out loud to one hundred.

"Thanks, Honker! You're the best!" he heard her exclaim as she began suction-cupping her way out the open window.

Meanwhile . . . .

"Launchpad, are you sure you can handle this?" Darkwing asked for the second time as he adjusted his hat and crimefighting mask. "I mean, I know I've given you some dangerous assignments before, but-"

"Sure, DW!" Launchpad McQuack chuckled. "No problem-o! How hard can a little babysitting be?"

Darkwing Duck and his lovely date for the evening, Morgana Macawber, exchanged worried glances.

"Dark, darling," Morgana whispered, "perhaps we shouldn't . . . ?"

Darkwing was about to nod in agreement when Launchpad clapped them both on the backs so hard it took their breath away in an attempt to reassure them before practically shoving the romantic couple out the front door of the Mallard residence.

"Listen, you kids have fun!" Launchpad ordered. "I know you've really been looking forward to that new museum show all month, so you don't want to be late for it now!" In his eagerness to play matchmaker, Launchpad slammed the door behind them so fast that he never heard the sound of falling plaster from upstairs.

"_Kids_?" Darkwing scoffed, straightening his sleeves and glaring back at the front door, peeved to be given the bum's rush out of his own home. "Why, I'm older than-" Suddenly he remembered who he was with and wondered if this was the time to be talking about his age when he might better avoid the subject. Neither he nor Morgana were anywhere close to past their prime, but such a topic was often touchy with women. Not that Morgana was your average woman . . . . Glancing back at her made him realize that Launchpad's hearty backslaps weren't the only thing capable of taking his breath away – as if he didn't know that already! His gorgeous lady love touched his heart as well as his libido with her own concerned glance not at the door but in the general direction of the house's second story. Although he and Morgana weren't married (_yet_, he added mentally), she shared his parental concern for Gosalyn already. Yes, his darling little girl could be quite a handful, but Morgana didn't mind that. She admired Gosalyn's spunk as much as Drake himself did. She'd even paid Gosalyn her ultimate compliment by considering her to be 'practically a Macawber!' Well, if Drake/Darkwing got his way, his girlfriend Morgana would someday be a Mallard! If-

HAAAAAWWWNKKKKKKKKK! HAAAAWWWNKKKKKKK!

Darkwing and Morgana both jumped out of their contemplation as Morgana's faithful pet spider leaned into the horn of the ride awaiting them. Darkwing would have preferred to have himself and Morgana travel in the Ratcatcher, but Morgana's family was still suspicious enough of her dating a superhero (and suspicious of Darkwing's intentions) that they were insistent she bring a family chaperone on this big date. She'd solved this problem by carting along Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring who was so old he practically had to be disinterred to join them. This satisfied propriety, and the relative in question was already sleeping through the evening in the back seat and could be expected to remain so. But bringing him along meant they needed a bigger vehicle than just a motorcycle with a sidecar. The Macawbers had an impressive collection of autos, and for a sentient, magical spider, Archie wasn't a bad chauffeur, but the little creature was eager to see the new museum show too and a tad impatient.

"I suppose we'd better be going," she sighed. "It's just that I have the strangest sense of foreboding, as if one of my student loans was overdue."

Darkwing had a similar feeling – not about any loans – more like a distant, intuitive prickle that he sometimes got when the most sinister, threatening forces (such as the PTA) were nearby. Give him a raft of megalomaniacal supervillains over the local tiger moms and dads any day of the week!

"Er, anything more specific than that?" he asked Morgana.

The sorcerous beauty raised a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes in mystic concentration.

"I see a . . . a strange castle . . . ." she intoned slowly, " . . . . and a train . . . a steam-driven train . . . ."

Any further supernatural vibes Morgana might have picked up were cut short by another set of honks from Archie. She trembled, opened her eyes and shrugged her shapely shoulders.

"That's it, I'm afraid. The vision doesn't make any sense to me."

"At least it isn't anything around here," Darkwing mumbled with some relief as they made their way to the waiting car. Drake Mallard might like to think of his home as his castle, but its appearance on this end was nothing but ordinary. Aside from the rotating furniture, secret tunnels and passages inside that led to his superhero hideout in the St. Canard bridge, there wasn't anything at all about _his_ house that could be called strange! It wasn't near any railroad tracks either. And steam trains? Who in their right minds (Quackerjack didn't count obviously) had anything to do with steam trains these days? "Could be something to do with the new exhibit."

Determined to keep their eyes peeled for trouble, Darkwing Duck and Morgana Macawber climbed into their spider-chauffeured conveyance and took off into the night.

"Well, that takes care of that," Launchpad said to himself out loud. It was always good to see DW, uh, Drake take a little time off from his nightly crime patrols to do something normal. And Launchpad thought Drake and Morgana made such a swell couple too!

Now to make some popcorn and scroll around for a good movie on Duckflix . . . .

Launchpad wasn't heedless of his responsibilities as a babysitter though. On his way to the microwave, he stopped by the stairs to take a careful listen. He heard Honker say 'fifteen,' and the word sent a chill down his spine. The kids must be doing math homework. Launchpad had always _hated _math class. He'd make some extra popcorn for the poor little tykes, but he'd better leave it near Gosalyn's bedroom door and not disturb them just yet or they might want him to help . . . .


	2. No Ducking The Issue

_**Elsewhere and Elsewhen:**_

Artemus Gordon was a Secret Service agent who knew his mind and knew what he liked. What he liked very much included _caneton à l'orange _– roast duck with orange sauce – and he was a master at preparing this gourmet dish. He had a craving for it right now in fact. Unfortunately, his best friend and Secret Service partner James West had made it clear that both duck and rabbit were off the menu – _permanently _– at least on board the Wanderer. Jim wouldn't budge a fraction of an inch on this issue either. No rabbit and no duck dinners. It was worse than annoying – it was ridiculous!

Jim's reason for the ban was ridiculous, anyway . . . .

What else could anyone call the looney story Jim had told him last year about how he'd been rescued from their archenemy Dr. Miguelito Loveless by . . . _a giant talking rabbit and giant talking duck_?1

Seriously?

Artemus didn't doubt that Jim had suffered a dangerous scrape with their deadly foe, and made a narrow escape. He didn't doubt that Loveless had knocked Jim out first with the aid of a gas weapon – Jim admitted as much. But as to the idea that Jim owed his life to humanoid, sentient rabbits and ducks . . . . Who could possibly believe that?

No, poor Jim must have hallucinated that part – a side effect of the gas, perhaps. Loveless had used chemical concoctions of his own devising to make Jim undergo hallucinations before. He'd even made Jim believe that he – Jim West – had shot Artemus to death!2 Thankfully none of the evil little wizard's plots had come to fruition. But Loveless was responsible for Jim's frustrating food notions now, and Artemus Gordon had to suffer the result.

No more duck dinners?

Not on Jim West's watch . . . .

Arte looked at the calendar in the varnish car glumly. A year to the day exactly. April Fool's Day. Chalk that up to Loveless' perverse sense of humor. In Europe the date was often referred to as Poisson d'Avril or Pesce d'Aprile or something similar – Fish of April. The joke was on ol' Artemus this time. Well, nothing for it, perhaps, but to shove aside his current craving and make an appropriately seasonal seafood dish instead.

Settling on such fishy thoughts and wondering where he could get the best requisite filets from nearby, Artemus didn't hear his partner enter the varnish car until Jim cleared his throat in a meaningful way. He turned around to see Jim scowling and realized what recipe he'd left his personal cookbook open on.

"Arte . . . ."

Artemus raised both his hands in a peace-making gesture even as he shook his head and tried to grin without chagrin.

"You don't have to say it," Artemus explained. "I wasn't going to cook any ducks – or my goose either! I simply thought I might make, uh, fish with orange sauce. Unless, of course, you're objecting to our eating fish now too?"

Jim's scowl was replaced with a wry look and a raised eyebrow.

"You still don't believe me, do you?"

"Jim, I believe that you believe," Arte sighed. "And that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

"I suppose you don't believe that Loveless shrank me to the size of a doll or pulled people in and out of paintings either then?"3

Touché. Arte couldn't deny he'd witnessed those events with his own eyes – even experienced them firsthand in the case of the paintings. He still pinched himself when recalling those incredible events. But that didn't change the fact that he and the Wanderer's engineers had been stuck in the same mysterious forest as Jim a year ago and _they_ hadn't seen any outsized, anthropomorphic animals of the sort Jim described. It was far more likely that Loveless' gas had come with a bit of extra hallucinogen added. Attempting to change the subject, Artemus was about to ask what type of fish Jim preferred tonight when a certain set of 'books' in the varnish car began clacking. Both men rushed over to listen to the hidden telegraph's communication from Washington.

"Count Manzeppi . . . ." Jim frowned as Artemus scribbled down the message in full and tapped out a response. Both agents understood the encryption code and the news wasn't good. Suddenly, dinner itself was off the menu, replaced by a different urgent need.

"Kidnapping?" Arte asked, puzzled, after the telegraph session ended. "Not exactly Manzeppi's style, is it? I thought the Eccentrics specialized more in contract assassinations of the high and mighty, not hostage deals. And what on Earth would they want with a dentist?"

"Maybe they'd like to improve their smiles?" Jim quipped, but no trace of humor reached his eyes. "Whatever the reason, I don't think we'll like the answer."

The agents exchanged wary nods before departing the varnish car to suit up for what would no doubt be a perilous mission. Count Manzeppi was as formidable a foe as Dr. Loveless – and more, if one counted the band of 'Eccentric' killers backing him up from time to time – those that survived. This was going to be one April Fool's Day on which James West and Artemus Gordon couldn't afford to be foolish . . . .

1 The Night of Being Vewwy, Vewwy Qwiet (an earlier fanfic by yours truly)

2 The Night of the Murderous Spring

3 The Night of the Raven and The Night of the Surreal McCoy


	3. Situation Abnormal, All Ducked Up

"No castles or steam trains here," Darkwing scratched at his hat in puzzlement. "Plenty of kooks, all right, but . . . ."

"Shhh, Dark, they might hear you," Morgana cautioned.

The St. Canard History Museum's newest attraction, a traveling collection and display of Criminal and Supervillain Artifacts of the Last 200 Years had certainly brought out a motley collection of gawkers and curiosity seekers. Many ticket holders for this opening night gala had arrived in costume – so many, in fact, that Darkwing Duck's appearance here was barely noticed. Normally Darkwing would have grumbled at the lack of attention, appreciation and yes, imitators. As if Sailor Loon, Gizmo Duck and Robin Hoot deserved to have more cheap, knockoff impersonators than him! It was also irritating that most people were dismissing _him_ as a cheap knockoff too! He'd already received more than one compliment on something called 'cosplay' which Morgana had to explain to him before he could punch the first complementor's lights out. Only the need to keep vigilant while also admiring the fascinating museum exhibits was allowing him to maintain his poise and dignity in this crazy crush.

"It is an impressive collection," Morgana said. "Such creativity, don't you think?"

"A little _too_ creative, if you ask me," Darkwing grumbled. "That Norton Nimnul guy must be a real fruitcake to come up with a fruitquake!"

Morgana nodded. By tradition, Macawbers were strongly supportive of the mad scientist arts, but a robbery plot using lasers and giant, seismic gelatin molds struck her as being a bit over the top. Nimnul in photographs had appeared to be a pretty strange-looking creature too.

"I mean, even Megavolt couldn't come up with stuff _this_ crazy!" Darkwing gestured at the displays all around them.

At that moment, a familiar-sounding voice cried out over the steadier buzz of the crowd.

"My babies!" the cracking, agonized voice shrieked. "I'll save you from these cruel electrical exploiters!"

"Dark . . . ." Morgana whispered as a familiar, yellow-garbed figure to match the voice burst out into the midst of the exhibit's hallway.

Darkwing waved her concern aside. He'd show her he was ready to go with the flow at this outré exhibition and not embarrass either of them.

"Saayyy," he said, stepping forward to greet the new arrival with a grin, "that's one impressive outfit you've got there, pal! You look just like the real Megavolt!"

"Gosh, do you think so?" the weaselly figure gushed, looking down at his yellow attire as if seeing it for the very first time. "I tried my best, I . . . ." He paused, as one suddenly remembering something. "Hey, wait a minute – I _am_ the real Megavolt!" To prove it, his eyes, gloves and a pair of metal prongs rising out of his headgear lit up – literally.

The crowd of onlookers, realizing they might have an actual supervillain in their midst, began backing up fast. Darkwing, realizing the exact same thing, moved forward again, shaking his head and tsking a bit.

"Well in that case, I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you."

"And what would that be?" Megavolt snarled.

"I'm the _real _Darkwing Duck!" Darkwing said, whipping out his favorite crimefighting gadget-gun. "Let's get-"

"Hold it right there!" two voices called out at the same time. One belonged to a museum guard who was trying to undo the safety strap on his holster so he could draw his own weapon. The other voice – terrifyingly recognizable to Darkwing – belonged to a much smaller figure standing atop the scaled-down gelatin mold that accompanied the Norton Nimnul exhibit, bow and arrow at the ready. Or at least _almost_ at the ready. The gelatin mold, though no fruitquake, wasn't the most stable platform for an archer or anyone else to be standing on. It was already beginning to wobble under Quiverwing Quack's feet.

Darkwing, his attention distracted, almost didn't manage to sidestep Megavolt's attack blast in time. All the hours of practice spent on his 'Breakfast of Doom' obstacle course paid off though, allowing him to be an artful dodger at the last split second.

"Yipes!" he yelped as the crackling beam of electricity sliced past him. Morgana also managed to sidestep the bolt. A display stand holding one of the villainous appliances Megavolt had come to 'liberate' wasn't so lucky. A corona of energy briefly illuminated the washing machine-like device before it was left crackling, smoking and still.

"My precious!" Megavolt yelled at the sight of his own handiwork. "Oh, no! No! Daddy didn't mean it!" He rushed over to embrace the burnt appliance before turning back to glare at Darkwing and Morgana. "This is all your fault! Why do you always have to show up and ruin everything?"

"Me?" Darkwing asked, trying with difficulty to keep his attention on both the criminal and the wobbling gelatin mold with his daughter atop at the same time. "At least I had-"

Before he could complete the sentence, more havoc ensued as Launchpad McQuack came running in with Honker in tow and another security guard and the portly head curator of the museum in hot pursuit.

"DW! DW!" Launchpad exclaimed. "You gotta come quick! Gos- whoa!" He too broke off speaking as he saw the strange tableau in front of him – Darkwing and Morgana facing off against Megavolt, museum patrons in all manner of evening dress or costume either looking for an exit or the best spot for a selfie, a security guard drawing a pistol, and 'Quiverwing Quack' struggling to keep her balance on a defiant dessert.

"Ticketholders only!" The curator, noticing none of this, grabbed at Launchpad's arm, causing Honker to go tumbling.

Honker, proving himself a Muddlefoot through and through, managed to scramble up, but in seeking to avoid the security guards, ran headlong into the base of the giant jelly and bounced off. The gelatin set 'Quiverwing' quivering more than ever, and while her suction cup boots held fast, the confection's structural integrity did not. The top layer of the gelatin mold, disguised Gosalyn and all, sheared off.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Gosalyn yelped herself, arms windmilling. The arrow she'd notched went flying too – straight into the badly damaged machine Megavolt had been keening over. This new attack did not go unnoticed by the supercharged supervillain.

"You'll pay for that!" Megavolt shook his glowing fist at her falling figure.

Neither Darkwing nor Gosalyn came back with a retort – this was now a matter of gravity – the real thing, to be precise. As Gosalyn/Quiverwing reached frantically for anything she could grab onto overhead, suction boots weighted down with a great slab of gelatin, Launchpad and Darkwing both ran to try and catch her. Morgana, just as frantic, also took aim with a magic spell to cushion her fall. Unfortunately, all three rescuing forces collided at the same moment, and Gosalyn's brief grasp at an overhead light fixture (a flimsy one as it turned out) caused her to swing past her would-be saviors to land with a sticky, lime-scented plop right at Megavolt's feet. The blob of gelatin cushioned Gosalyn from the force of impact, but it couldn't save her from Megavolt's wrath. The snapped section of light fixture she clutched in the hand that had been holding the arrow didn't help either.

"You . . . you . . . oppressors of electricity! Murderers of machines!" Megavolt yelled down at her. "You're all alike! I'll show you!" He reached down and grabbed her by both arms, yanking her up with enough force to tug her small webbed feet right out of their suction cup boots. She did her best to struggle, but Quiverwing Quack was no match for an adult with a madman's strength.

"No!" Darkwing rose to his own feet again but gaped in horror at the sight of Gosalyn in Megavolt's clutches. He'd already re-holstered his gadget gun fast so he could have both arms free to catch his falling daughter. Now Darkwing raised them above his head in surrender. "Wait, Megavolt – I'm the one you want, remember?"

Beside Darkwing, Morgana looked just as helpless in this hostage situation, arms lowered to her sides and no longer glowing with spell power. Even the two museum guards and the curator were backing off, sensing that events had just taken on a more menacing turn.

Whatever Megavolt had been expecting to happen next, it wasn't this. He stood in place for a moment, confused by Darkwing's sudden submissiveness. But any hope of de-escalating the crisis vanished as one of the more air-headed Sailor Loon lookalikes, heedless of danger, stepped forward with her mePhone to snap a selfie with the villain. The flash of her phone's camera in his eyes both dazzled and further angered Megavolt.

"Ooh, none of your tricks!" he howled, blinking and using Gosalyn as a cudgel to knock the superhero impersonator and phone aside. Still holding onto the struggling girl, Megavolt fled from the massive central chamber to race down one of the new exhibit's side hallways. Here too, super-villainous inventions of every shape and description abounded. The devices not only attracted Megavolt's attention, they were so crammed in everywhere as to obscure the fire exit and make the corridor appear to be a dead end. But Megavolt also saw Darkwing, Morgana and Launchpad rushing toward him in hot pursuit. Seeing no other avenue of escape, the criminal spotted what appeared to be a flickering, old TV set on one of the museum's pedestals, and the image of a glowing lightbulb appeared over his head, materializing between the sparking prongs of his helmet.

"Aha!" Megavolt said, tucking his hostage under one arm and drawing out a gadget gun of his own design. "I didn't want to field test this just yet – or maybe I did . . . ." He shrugged and pointed the device at the strange TV screen. Just as Darkwing and his heroic reinforcements arrived, Megavolt fired a beam of pulsing, translucent energy at the TV.

"Wait!" Darkwing pleaded, knowing all too well what was about to happen. Before he could catch up to them, Megavolt, with Gosalyn/Quiverwing still held tight in his grasp, leapt into the screen's flitting, sputtering picture . . . .

. . . . and disappeared.


	4. Down In The Mouth

Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi was not having a good day. In fact, he was not having a good week, month, year or even (if he was being perfectly honest – a state he _detested_) a very auspicious decade. Not only had his masterful, ingenious plans of late failed to achieve fruition – mostly thanks to those accursed Secret Service agents West and Gordon – he wasn't getting any satisfaction from his current prisoner either.

"Doctor Denver," Count Manzeppi sighed, "you are not telling me what I want to hear."

"But . . . but I'm telling you the truth!" the frightened dentist stammered. "The tooth – it cannot be saved!"

Manzeppi sighed again and kept the bland, pleasant expression on his face, as difficult as that was with a swollen cheek and lightning jabs of pain coursing through his majestic features. Style was so very important, after all. But in his mind Manzeppi was beginning to drum his fingers in annoyance.

"I was informed – and by reliable sources – that _you_, Doctor Denver, are the very finest dentist in this entire benighted country. So I think you can understand why I find your answer most unsatisfactory. Might I remind you that you are not in a good position to give unsatisfactory responses?"

Instead of more words, the Count's prisoner gaped and gulped like a hooked fish, eyes wide and staring in contrast to Manzeppi's own lazy, half-lidded gaze.

"Of course, I have discovered over the centuries that human ingenuity can accomplish great things with sufficient motivation," Manzeppi drawled, inspecting his neat, manicured fingernails. "To you, Doctor, the loss of one tooth by a patient may seem a mere minor matter. But to me, it is the first step on a long and treacherous path that can lead to the dilemma suffered by George Washington, he of the esteemed historic reputation and wooden dentures! And you know what that dilemma was, don't you?"

Doctor Denver stopped gulping long enough to hazard a guess.

"Er, difficulty chewing?"

"Wrong!" Manzeppi roared, slamming his fist down on the table in front of him with a force that made the dentist flinch. "Something much worse – a raft of _unflattering portraits_! It will not do!" The Count stared down at his reflection in the table's surface, and with effort choked back his rage and smiled as best he could. "It will not do. The world deserves to see only the finest images of myself! The magnificence that is Count Manzeppi _must_ be preserved – all of it! Therefore you will find a cure for my ailment that does not require my disfigurement." Manzeppi rubbed his chin, then regretted it as pain stabbed at him again. "Since you seem to require some additional motivation to put your ingenuity to work, I will . . . ."

Whatever threat Manzeppi began to utter was drowned out by the clanging of a loud gong, which made the dentist flinch even more. Manzeppi looked up at the sound and, because he had an audience, resisted the urge to swear. The truest disadvantage to killing servants and colleagues who disappointed is that it left one to investigate one's own perimeter alarms, and at the least convenient times too.

"Pardon me for a moment, Doctor," the Count nodded. "It seems I have another matter to attend to. If you are wise, you'll consider what I've said in my absence."

Without giving the slightest indication of concern, Manzeppi took up his favorite walking cane and strolled out of the interview chamber, brushing a panel on the outside wall with his hand. Immediately a set of steel bars shot down through the doorway, ensuring that Doctor Denver would be "In" when the Count returned.

The gong sounded again. Impressive, but such a bore, he thought. He really must consider replacing it with something more musically entertaining, a player piano, perhaps. One with the correct music, of course.

As to who or what the Count's unwanted visitor might be . . . .

Manzeppi felt a twinge that did _not_ come from the region of his jaw. He had too much suspicion with regard to intruders these days. When he had established this particular headquarters years ago, there had not been any set of train tracks nearby. He had not worked very hard, or hard enough, to ensure that remained the case, however. Progress being the bother that it was, there now lay the path of the iron rooster but a mile away – far too close for convenience. Manzeppi's convenience, anyway. Train tracks were capable of bringing the most unwelcome visitors of all.

"Gentlemen, you should not be trying my patience today," Manzeppi muttered to himself and the unseen callers. "A jury has already found it wanting." As he made his way to an upper story spy chamber, the Count mentally reviewed all the deadly delights to be found within his current domicile. For the first time all day, the smile he allowed himself was genuine. Oh, there were means enough here to dispose of more than a mere pair of Secret Service agents! He could kill them by the dozen if he wished, and ahhh, the methods he might choose to employ . . . . West and Gordon had escaped his wrath before now with their beginners' luck and yes, a small modicum of skill on their part. But they would not do so today. No, not this time. _This_ time Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi would attend to their demise in person and there would be no escape. No more reliance on lackeys, not that he had any at the moment. He was beaming at the thought as he glanced into his downward periscope.

"What in the Great Golden Girdle of Hippolyte . . . ?"

Manzeppi's aching jaw dropped as the scope revealed not a pair of federal agents on horseback or foot entering the park grounds, but instead a very different pair of . . . the _strangest_ creatures he'd ever seen! And for the leader of the Eccentrics, that was saying quite a lot. The larger of the two figures, of a wiry build, wore a bright yellow gymnasium outfit, an improbable but matching orange helmet topped off by a pair of glistening metal horns shooting out bright sparks, and blue gloves and boots. The garish lemon costume wasn't nearly so extraordinary as the wearer's face, though. Rather than the normal features one might expect to find on a man, this fellow appeared to be wearing some sort of rodent mask complete with a long, protruding snout, wrinkled whiskers and rat-like teeth below the beady, goggle-adorned eyes. In one hand, the intruder held an odd sort of a gun, and tucked under his other arm he carried a smaller figure not much bigger than Villars' ventriloquist dummy Julio. Unlike Julio, who really _was_ a wooden dummy (Manzeppi had checked – one could never be too careful about that sort of thing), this second character, a little girl dressed as a masked duck for some reason, was writhing and struggling to get away.

Bother. Just another tryout then. Count Manzeppi preferred for job interviews to be scheduled beforehand, but as he was rather low on Eccentrics at the moment, he supposed he had better take this one. It wouldn't be nearly as diverting as reducing James West and Artemus Gordon to little bits and pieces, yet these characters approaching his sanctum were nothing if not eccentric.

Choosing to make the proper dramatic entrance on short notice, Manzeppi stepped over to a particular square panel on the floor of the spy chamber, yanked on an overhead pull cord and disappeared. A moment later, he materialized in a flash of light and smoke outside his castle, carefully at an angle so that his light refractors would keep the new arrival from getting off a good shot at him with that gun he was holding.

"Greetings!" Manzeppi boomed in a loud, florid voice. His bad tooth sent a sharp jolt of pain just then, but he held onto his full stage persona with a flourish and a wave of his walking cane. "I am Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi, Sorceror of the Mystic Secrets of Forbidden Arts, Purveyor of Parapsychological Services Without Peer, and Leader of the Eccentrics! It is I whom you seek!"

The reaction this got him was not the one he'd been expecting. Instead of raising the gun to shoot or wave with bravado, the yellow-clad figure appeared to crumple just a bit.

"Not another one," Megavolt groaned, staring at Manzeppi with something like resignation. "You don't flap in the night, do you?"

"Another one?" Manzeppi scowled, drawing himself up to his full height. "I assure you, Sir – I am the one and only Count Manzeppi! Without peer, without parallel! And no, I do _not_, as a habit, flap in the night. However, if I wished to flap nocturnally, I am sure that I could! And who, Sir, might you be?"

"Megavolt," Megavolt stated. "At least I think I am. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I am."

"And your companion?" Manzeppi asked, nodding down to the little girl dressed as a masked duck.

"Quiverwing Quack!" Gosalyn answered for herself, still trying to get away from Megavolt. "Let me go!"

The only things let go, however, were the child-sized bow and bit of light fixture that fell from her hands. Megavolt looked down at her as if trying to recall who she was and why he was holding on to her. Then the small mask around her eyes jogged his memory.

"You!" he shouted, shaking her. "It's meddling do-gooders like you that keep criminals like me from making a dishonest living!"

"Ah, your captive then," Manzeppi smiled at Megavolt. "Which reminds me, I have one of my own to deal with at the moment. So perhaps, Mr. . . . Megavolt, we could continue this discussion and your potential lucrative employment within?" With a dramatic wave of his walking stick, Manzeppi caused the entryway door to appear at the front of his castle and then open. Megavolt was astonished, but not by the feat of prestidigitation.

"You . . . you want to give me a job?" he asked.

Manzeppi beamed at him in encouragement and tried to put a hand around Megavolt's thin shoulders to lead the way, only to draw it back at the realization that Megavolt had a giant battery mounted behind them. Yes, this one was Eccentric, all right.

"Mr. Megavolt, Sir, you had me at dishonest . . . ."

As they headed into Manzeppi's garish hideout, Gosalyn squirmed even harder to get away, sensing that her predicament had just gotten even worse with the introduction of this new and strange villain. That seemed to amuse Count Manzeppi.

"A moment," he said to Megavolt as he halted, closed one gloved fist, then reopened it to reveal an object that resembled a tiny trumpet attached to a tiny moving cylinder. He held this object up close to Gosalyn's face. Gosalyn, not knowing what this odd thing was but fearing the worst, tried to jerk back from it.

"Let me go!" she yelled to Megavolt as loud as she could. "Help!"

Count Manzeppi, content with this reaction, closed his fist around the small device and caused it to vanish again.

"Yes, that should do nicely," Manzeppi murmured more to himself than to Megavolt or the young prisoner. He cast a sly glance at the hills surrounding the former amusement park in which he'd made his home. "Nicely indeed."

So saying, they entered the Count's sanctum, leaving behind a small bow and bit of lamp fixture behind in the sand.


	5. Birds Of A Feather

"I . . . I don't believe it!" Artemus Gordon whispered as he stared through his binoculars, his face the very picture of shock. The lenses in the binoculars couldn't be lying to him – he'd ground and polished them to specification himself. And yet . . . .

"What is it?" Jim hissed in equally hushed tones. The younger agent's keen eyes could see a tiny, garish figure down below that might be Manzeppi, conversing with an equally outlandish person with a . . . child? . . . in one arm, but they were still too far away for detail. Both agents had known from Washington's telegraphed suspicions that Manzeppi was thought to be hiding out in this derelict, bankrupt former millionaire's playground. Given the other venues they'd found Manzeppi using previously, this one was of a piece.

Without uttering another word, Artemus handed Jim the binoculars. Jim held them up, adjusted the focus and . . . . Yes, that was Count Manzeppi all right, but who . . . ? Jim adjusted the focus again to get a better look at the other figures and . . . .

. . . . saw exactly what Artemus had seen.

Whoever or _what_ever the adult male was, it/he didn't look human, only humanoid. It clearly wasn't a giant duck or a rabbit either, in spite of the pair of protuberances sticking up above its head. But that smaller, child-sized figure . . . . Even Jim needed to blink his eyes and check again to verify what he was seeing.

"It has to be the time of year," Arte whispered. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "I'm going to be eating crow, aren't I?"

"I sure hope not," Jim replied, wondering if they'd be seeing one of _those_ in humanoid form next. "At this rate, I might go off poultry altogether." He handed Arte back the binoculars so he could take in the wider view again. At that instant, he saw Manzeppi make some sort of flourishing gesture and hold something up to the masked duck girl's face. Neither Secret Service agent had been able to hear anything of the conversation taking place down below at this distance, but both could see the duck girl's struggles increase, and the shape of the canyon they were peering down into carried her cries as the faintest of echoes. There was no doubt what the last word was.

"Help . . . ." Artemus repeated grimly.

They saw the door that appeared at the front of the amusement park castle, saw Manzeppi and his ally carry their prisoner inside and disappear behind the door that shut and then vanished again. The agents exchanged glances.

"Obviously not done with their kidnapping scheme, whatever it is," Jim whispered.

"Just being eclectic in their choice of victims," Arte agreed. "But how do you suppose-"

Suddenly the Secret Service men were thrown to their knees by a mysterious wave of energy. Before they could recover, a section of the air up on their precipice shimmered like a heat mirage and both men felt their hairs stand on end. Instinctively they scrambled away from the patch of shimmering air, and it was a good thing that they did. That air pocket rippled, crackled with energy, and a split second later an odd conveyance came barreling through the ripples – a conveyance filled with more duck people.

"Nice work, Morgana!" a humanoid duck in a purple suit, hat, cape and mask exclaimed as the conveyance braked to a halt. Jim and Arte barely had time to rise to their feet, not knowing what to expect next, before the duck in purple leaped out to stand only a short distance away. This new arrival began scanning the landscape with rapid turns of its head, noticing but barely acknowledging the presence of the two Secret Service agents. "They have to be here somewhere!"

"Sure, DW," a bigger duck dressed in what might be a mechanic's outfit but with a leather cap and raised goggles on his head, gulped while exiting the vehicle, "only, where's here?"

"Wyoming Valley," Jim answered, taking these visitors at face value in spite of the bright orange beaks and white feathers on those faces.

Artemus shook his head trying to clear it again, but it was no use – the strangers still looked like man-sized, humanoid ducks – or in one case, woman-sized and woman-shaped. _Very_ woman-shaped. Artemus Gordon was seldom at a loss for words, but he didn't know what to make of the arrivals, especially the female one in the slinky, skintight dress with an hourglass figure and high, bouffant dark hair rising above her decidedly non-human head. The duck-woman herself said nothing but only exhaled, slumped with exhaustion and lowered the shapely feminine hands that she'd been holding above her head. The air surrounding them lost its shimmering quality and became still once more. Artemus pinched himself and ascertained that no, he wasn't dreaming. Probably. He was seeing (and hearing) this, but he still wasn't sure he believed it.

"Pardon me, strangers," the masked duck in purple turned to Jim and Arte with a quizzical expression as if _they_ were the strange ones. "But by any chance did you see an insane supervillain run by here carrying a little girl?"

There was a frantic, almost pleading quality in the masked duck's voice, and after having watched the scene in the valley below just minutes earlier, the agents didn't have to guess why.

"This, uh, insane supervillain wouldn't happen to be wearing a yellow outfit with an orange helmet, would he?" Artemus asked, finding his voice again.

"Yes!" the masked duck cried. "That's him exactly! Which way did they go?"

Artemus and Jim exchanged wary glances again rather than answering right away. The quartet of duck-beings that had emerged from the vehicle, including one who seemed no more than a child (chick?) himself, were now all anxious and attentive. If the small duck-girl had indeed been kidnapped, these must be the folks she'd been kidnapped from. But getting the child back from somewhere within Count Manzeppi's castle hideout wasn't going to be any picnic. Jim put a restraining hand on the masked duck's shoulder to keep him from trying to dive straight over the cliff toward the castle, which these visitors hadn't spotted yet, then turned to Arte to let him take over as 'explainer-in-chief.' Artemus rubbed the back of his neck wondering where to begin, then decided in this case, honesty might be the best policy.

"We, ah, might have some bad news . . . ."

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

"Some people would style it a corrupt palace of deadliness, horrors, abominations and aberrations," Count Manzeppi declared, gesturing expansively as he gave his new ally (and new captive) the hold-hold tour. "But there really is no place like home, is there?"

There was certainly no place like _this_ home, anyway. Megavolt and 'Quiverwing Quack' both goggled as the Count led them past one mysterious, arcane object after another, all the while indulging in a mysterious (and to Gosalyn infuriating) activity. Manzeppi had helped himself to Gosalyn's entire quiver of special arrows and was now dropping them on the floor at regular intervals, ensuring she wouldn't have them to use even if she could find a way to wriggle out of Megavolt's grasp. At least Darkwing would have a trail to follow, if he somehow managed to track her this far. He _had_ to find her. He would, wouldn't he? He'd always done it before, no matter what the peril had been. And . . . and he'd do it again this time, she told herself. Even if she had let him down . . . .

That last thought was enough to make Gosalyn give up a lot of the fight just as Megavolt was distracted enough by one of the objects coming into view that she might have succeeded if she'd tried to break free then. While neither of them had been able to make sense of most of Manzeppi's possessions, the room they had entered contained something Megavolt knew at once – electricity. One of the Count's gadgets was arcing bright electrical bolts between two rods mounted on a dark platform. Megavolt almost began drooling at the sight of it.

"Ah, yes," Manzeppi grinned. "One of my very latest stolen inventions, which is certain to generate some interest! To say nothing of fatalities. This shocking device creates enough voltage to . . . ."

Megavolt didn't wait to hear the rest of Count Manzeppi's spiel. Without warning, he suddenly handed Gosalyn over to their host and made a dash straight for the sparking, arcing machine.

"No! Stop, you fool!" Manzeppi shouted. "You'd have to be mad to touch that current!"

But touch it Megavolt did. He more than touched it, letting the power jolt right through him so that for a moment his skeleton became visible through his skin and clothing. He shrieked and cackled as he crackled, dancing a spasm between the two rods. Then, in a flash it ended as the machine's overloaded circuits fried and exploded, sending Megavolt flying into the nearest wall, to land on the floor with a crash.

Count Manzeppi, so seldom caught off-guard, goggled in disbelief as Megavolt, still glowing and smoldering slightly, sat up and then rose to his feet very much alive and seemingly uninjured.

"I always get a charge out of doing that!" Megavolt laughed, then snapped his fingers so that small electrical sparks leapt between them. "And I don't think you _have_ to be mad to do this," he told Manzeppi, "but it's always worked for me!"

Gosalyn might not have taken advantage of Megavolt's distraction a moment earlier, but she could feel that the grip of Manzeppi's soft hands on her wasn't nearly as strong. With a kick and a shove she finally managed to free herself while Manzeppi was the one distracted. Alas, she didn't get far. Fast as she was, Megavolt proved faster, shooting a beam of static electricity out of one finger that stopped her in her tracks and lifted her helplessly into the air, frizzing out her bright red hair for bad measure.

"Impressive!" Manzeppi said, now understanding the reason for the outsize battery mounted on Megavolt's shoulders. "This must be why they call you Megavolt."

The other villain shrugged, a little abashed.

"I wanted to be called Megawatt," he admitted. "But that name was already taken."

"A small matter," Manzeppi scoffed. "Why, with you as my vass- ally, we can force this world to call us anything we want! Make it yield up any treasure that we want! Eliminate all enemies and make every so-called hero rue the day they were ever born!" He paused to admire the sight of Quiverwing Quack thrashing about in midair. "With my brains and our talents, the sky itself shall be no limit for us!"

Gosalyn, still refusing to give up her struggle, glared down at him.

"Oh, yeah? Darkwing Duck will stop you, you big creep!" she vowed. "You'll never get away with this!"

Manzeppi responded by dropping the last of her arrows and the empty quiver on the floor before turning to give her a small, wicked smile that made her blood run cold.

"My dear, I don't intend to . . . ."


	6. Getting Down To Business

Two Secret Service agents and one very determined masked duck snuck closer to the kind of castle one didn't often see, much less sneak up on. It wasn't easy. At one time, the Wyoming Valley Funland Park might have welcomed crowds of families looking for a picnic and day of amusements at its owner's behest. The derelict park had few visitors now to give any cover and many of the carnival tents, amusements and bandstands had rotted away, providing not much more. Sand and cement that had once been brought in by the railway carload still remained to make the area inhospitable to tree growth. And in the center of this wonderland wasteland, the biggest surviving structure of them all stood up and stood out like a mighty fortress in denial of its own inevitable decay. A tattered old reddish-pink banner with the faded word F NLAND flapped above one ivy-deprived tower that had the remains of a smiling dragon sculpted onto it.

"Boy, Manzeppi sure knows how to pick 'em, doesn't he?" Artemus muttered as he, Jim and their unorthodox companion shimmied down an irregular cliff face, small bits of anthracite gravel scrabbling underfoot. Introductions between the agents and the ducky visitors from another reality had already been made back up on the hillside, explanations given and a crude, hasty battle plan formed.

Darkwing and Morgana had been very unhappy to see that Launchpad brought young Honker along, first to the museum and now on this dangerous mission through a magical portal to where a child-napping supervillain awaited. Darkwing could understand Launchpad not being willing to take his eyes off the evening's other charge after Gosalyn had already disappeared. But Honker always impressed Darkwing as having a good, sensible head on his shoulders and had wanted the boy to keep it that way by running home to Herb and Binkie. No such luck. And all of them had forgotten the presence of Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring until the old duffer started coughing up mothballs in the Macawber car's back seat. So now their little group was split into two parties, with Launchpad, Archie and Morgana staying back near the Wanderer to keep Honker and the hacking near-cadaver Macawber elder safe while Darkwing, James West and Artemus Gordon set forth on their urgent mission.

Knowing Count Manzeppi to be unpredictable – and Megavolt no better, according to Darkwing – none of them knew what to expect. Their strategy, as devised by Jim and Darkwing together, consisted of only three points:

Get into Manzeppi's castle.

Rescue the prisoners.

Stop whatever bad deeds Count Manzeppi and Megavolt were up to without getting themselves killed.

That plan was pure Jim West, Artemus thought, but he couldn't argue with any bit of it. He just wished they all had a better idea of what they were getting into, the better to thusly get back out of. Artemus wasn't used to operating without disguises or advance aliases. He also wasn't accustomed to working with masked, costumed vigilante ducks either. Today though, fittingly, normal had gone straight out the window and run screaming, even more than it usually did for the two agents.

They were heading into danger, all three of them. Darkwing didn't mind 'getting dangerous,' as he'd put it. But Count Manzeppi didn't either. The F NLAND fun was just beginning . . . .

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

James West preferred the kind of prison towers that contained gorgeous damsels in distress, preferably single and amorous. Non-gorgeous, middle-aged male dentists were hardly the same thing at all. But the athletic agent tried not to feel too disappointed as he'd succeeded in scaling the castle's 'dragon tower' using his grapple hook and line. He'd found at least one of their target objectives – the missing Dr. Denver. Careless of Manzeppi not to have done a better job guarding this access point and prisoner. Or perhaps the Count didn't feel the need to. It had taken all of Jim's skill to climb the crumbling edifice from outside, and he wasn't at all sure he'd be able to get the non-svelte dentist lowered to the ground safely via that route, even if he could get the terrified man out the window. That meant the only way of saving Dr. Denver would be out the tower's inner front door and through Manzeppi's castle all the way to the ground floor.

Jim hoped Artemus and Darkwing were having luck with their own possibly more dangerous approach into Manzeppi's fortress. That gave Jim another pang of concern. This Darkwing character was an unknown to them, as were his abilities – in spite of his offer to show them his press clippings. What kind of crimefighter carried around his own press clippings? Although, come to think of it, Artemus had sometimes . . . .

"Oh thank heavens! A rescue!" Dr. Denver gasped with relief as soon as Jim had put in an appearance at the tower cell window, a bit too audibly for Jim's liking. Jim had signaled for the doctor to be silent, but the practitioner who looked into other people's mouths for a living had trouble keeping his own shut. "You've got to get me out of here! He's a madman!"

Jim used his own whisper to get Dr. Denver to lower the volume, since he couldn't get silence. The dentist had an interesting story to tell too. According to Denver, he really _had_ been kidnapped so that Count Manzeppi could avail himself of ordinary dental services, not as part of any larger criminal scheme. It seemed the Mystical Manzeppi had a broken, infected molar giving him so much hell he'd risked exposure to get his hands on the country's foremost dental surgeon. _Of course_ the conceited Count wouldn't deign to make an appointment like anyone else. And the unfortunate Dr. Denver now found himself caught between a rock and a hard abscess by this most difficult of all patients. Jim listened with interest and the occasional whispered question as he examined the tower cell door. Dr. Denver hadn't seen any other Eccentrics – or servants, for that matter. He knew nothing about Megavolt or any kidnapped little girls. So much for that.

Jim didn't mention the fact that the little girl they were looking for might be kind of, sort of a . . . duck. He had no idea how to explain that one. Given Arte's reaction, maybe it would be better just to let the dentist see for himself if it came to that. Denver was hysterical enough as it was. Jim needed him calmer – and quieter – if they were to have any chance of making their escape.

Jim peered through the keyhole. The door to this tower dungeon didn't appear to be locked at all. It didn't have to be. Immediately in front of the door the way was blocked by a set of heavy iron bars. How courteous of the Count – a cage that offered some privacy. Knowing Manzeppi, simply opening the door to get at those bars might trigger some sort of alarm or booby trap. Not a fatal one, if Manzeppi really did want to get Dr. Denver to cure what ailed him – he wouldn't risk that.

The faint sound of footsteps in the hallway outside alerted Jim to hide himself in the nick of time. There was only one place for him to go in this cell and that was up. With a swift motion for the portly Dr. Denver to stand in front of the tower window Jim had entered (and disbarred), the agent leaped up and braced himself with hand and footholds as close to the ceiling as he could get. He pulled off the maneuver without a second to spare. Beneath him, Jim heard rather than saw the sound of the cell's outer bars retracting. Then the door opened inward and Count Manzeppi stood in the doorway, apparently accompanied by Megavolt just behind him. Dr. Denver drew back and pressed himself as hard against the tower window as he could. The dentist was indeed bulky enough to obscure that window and its breached state completely. Jim kept quiet and breathed silently despite his exertion. As terrified as he plainly was, Dr. Denver did nothing to betray the agent's presence, and Manzeppi neither fully entered the room nor spared a glance at its ceiling.

"Doctor Denver, I should like you to meet my friend, Mr. Megavolt." Manzeppi gestured back to someone else Jim couldn't see. "And while he was explaining to me how . . . persuasive . . . he can be and creative in the use of electricity, I thought he should make your acquaintance."

"Ah . . . ah . . . how do you do?" Dr. Denver squeaked, trembling as he looked past the Count.

If Megavolt had any response, Jim didn't hear it, because Manzeppi wasn't ready to yield the podium just yet.

"I wonder, Doctor, if Mr. Megavolt's persuasive powers might be required here," the Count said, rubbing his swollen cheek and wincing. "Or if you have been putting your ingenuity to good use as I suggested?"

"I . . . I have!" the nervous dentist stammered. "There is . . . is one medicinal concoction which a . . . a colleague of mine recommended. But I've made it only once before and . . . and you probably don't have the ingredients . . . ."

"What? Speak, man!" Manzeppi commanded. "What is it you require?"

"A . . . a very large quantity of oolong tea and . . . and . . . ."

"Yes? Yes?" Manzeppi cried impatiently.

"At least twenty pounds of red onions," Denver added. "And a well-equipped lab or kitchen to . . . to brew them in. The solution is quite powerful, but you can't possibly . . . ."

Manzeppi pounded one fist against the ajar cell door with such force that the dentist flinched, but still didn't move away from the window.

"Bah! Nothing is impossible to Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi!" Manzeppi roared. "Mere tea and onions? Do you think I cannot obtain such simple ingredients with ease? I, who have penetrated the Great Pyramid of Egypt to retrieve the Amulet of Osiris?" Manzeppi placed a hand upon his chest and Jim sucked his breath in, dreading what might happen if the Count should roll his eyes heavenward and spot the concealed agent. But Manzeppi only snorted and cast his eyes downward rather than upward in disgust. "Oolong and red onions! You shall have them in quantity – and the laboratory as well! But heaven help you, Doctor," Manzeppi growled, "if this is merely your idea of a joke or some sort of trick! For if it is, I, Count Manzeppi, shall make you wish you had never been born."

No one looking at the dentist quaking in terror would have taken him for a jester at that moment. Manzeppi seemed convinced and turned on his heel to leave and commence the gathering of the ingredients for Dr. Denver's potion. Before Manzeppi could slam the cell door shut behind him, though, Jim took one chance to ensure that the door did not shut quite all the way. Straining to hold his overhead position with only one hand grip, Jim extracted from one pocket and threw a small blob of putty at the door frame. The Count never noticed. Then Jim had to grab and brace himself against the wall again and remain in place while Manzeppi caused the outer door bars to reappear. He didn't dare jump back down to the floor until he and Dr. Denver heard their unwelcoming hosts' footsteps recede down the tower's hallway and steps. Keeping up the uncomfortable post long enough was difficult, but he managed it, before finally being able to lower himself. Back on solid floor, he motioned for Dr. Denver to remain silent, but once more the nervous dentist was having none of it. At least he kept his voice to a whisper. He stared wide-eyed at the Secret Service agent.

"Who . . . or what . . . was that Megavolt creature?" Denver demanded. "It . . . it didn't look human!"

Jim didn't have an answer to that one himself, at least as far as Megavolt's species was concerned. But this might be an opportune time to make sure Denver wasn't caught off-guard by their allies' appearance either.

"He might be another one of Manzeppi's experiments," Jim mused in a hushed tone as he examined the cell door. "Manzeppi's been trying to turn some people into ducks too."

"Ducks!" the dentist gasped. "In heaven's name why?"

Jim shrugged. He didn't feel entirely comfortable with the lie, but it was the most logical-sounding explanation for what (or who) Dr. Denver might see later on.

"Who knows why Manzeppi does anything?" he responded. "The, uh, duck people are on our side though, so if you see them, just don't say anything about their appearance, okay?"

The dentist nodded, already accepting the odd situation. That would have to do for diplomacy for right now. Jim turned his attention back to the cell door. Reaching up to retrieve the ball of putty carefully, he eased the door open, thankful that there wasn't a creak. No alarms sounded. As for the metal bars blocking their exit . . . detonation or burning through them wouldn't likely go unnoticed. But Jim saw the pressure plate mechanism and didn't think he'd have to resort to such crude means. He just had to use the right touch.

Jim hadn't brought his ever-trusty blue Stetson on this expedition, but the hat wasn't the only place he kept a band of metal concealed on his person. Easing a shining, flexible strap out from the inside of his belt, he wondered if he'd be able to exert enough force on the touch plate with it – and if it would reach. He took a quick look around at the tower dungeon room. Aside from its dentist-prisoner, one small table and one chair, there was nothing in here that might help, except . . . .

"You need one of my implements?" Denver asked, pushing forward his professional tool bag.

The dentist's instruments – one of them – proved to be just their ticket to freedom. Attaching a heavy-duty and vicious-looking dental pick to one end of the metal strap gave it just enough added length and weight that Jim thought it would do the trick, and it did. A solid impact of the tool on the touch plate caused the metal bars to recede as if by magic. The way out was clear.

So far.

"That was almost too easy," Jim whispered, though he was careful to check the walls, floor and steps of the tower for traps as they went. "That toothache really has Manzeppi off his game. Let's hope he stays that way." He held onto the dental pick in case he needed it as a makeshift weapon. His curiosity did get the better of him about one thing though. "You couldn't really cure him using oolong tea and red onions, could you?"

Denver shook his head.

"No, although the tea can be useful sometimes. I thought it might delay him, though. My cook was complaining to me the other day that the onions are so out of season, one cannot find them in the market anywhere."

"Not a bad idea," Jim nodded. "We just have to make sure we're not here when he finds that out!"

Carefully, step by step, the pair made their way down from the high tower without encountering any resistance. So far, so good. A very distracted Count and only one very eccentric Eccentric. Jim felt buoyed with the thought that he might just succeed in pulling his half of this rescue mission off after all. Now if only Arte and Darkwing were having as much luck . . . .

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

Artemus Gordon's mind was boggling and it took a genuine effort to keep his eyes from goggling. He'd done and seen plenty of strange things in his Secret Service career, but none was as strange as the companion currently at his side. When he and Jim had decided to split up, he'd insisted on being the one to accompany Darkwing on what might be the more dangerous and direct assault on Manzeppi's carnivalesque fortress of doom, and not only because Jim was the better climber. Artemus needed to stick with Darkwing just to have more time to reassure himself that _he _wasn't the one hallucinating now. He'd pinched himself another couple of times already and still found himself sneaking into the castle alongside a man-sized, costumed duck. A rather intense costumed duck at that. Artemus also couldn't forget the unexpected business they were on about, which made him feel profound sympathy for his outlandish companion. A child's life was at stake. Darkwing hadn't said that the little duck girl was his daughter – he didn't need to. From the way Darkwing was acting, it was as plain as the, uh, bill on his face. So no matter what it took, Artemus Gordon was going to help this weird, weird character get that little girl back. The fact that she had webbed feet and down rather than bare skin didn't matter. A child was a child, and that's all there was to it. Who knew what Manzeppi might be doing to her even now? Cooking her up with orange sauce?

When _that_ thought occurred to him, Artemus felt ashamed. Now he was grateful Jim had been keeping him from an act that suddenly seemed like an atrocity. He . . . .

_Whoops!_

He and Darkwing barely managed to, ah, duck in time to avoid a spinning blade that sliced through the air where their heads had been a second ago. Another one of Manzeppi's death traps. This place seemed to be full of them. Darkwing didn't mind 'getting dangerous' as he'd put it when Arte and Jim had tried to warn him about Count Manzeppi, but that didn't mean either of them could afford to be sloppy right now. Darkwing was distracted enough, and not in a good way. They'd already found the child-sized bow that the little duck girl had dropped in the sand outside. Now they were following a steady trail of the arrows she may have been leaving to help Darkwing find her. At least Artemus hoped that she'd been the one dropping them. Otherwise they were 'pulling a Jim West' and following this breadcrumb trail straight into a –

"Oh, no!"

Artemus heard Darkwing's despairing whisper before seeing what Darkwing had spotted first. There, on the far side of a large chamber containing what appeared to be some very damaged electrical equipment lay one final arrow and a child-sized empty quiver. There was no sign of the little girl, but from the look of things, she'd run out of arrows and possibly lost a fight as well. Poor kid! If there was one thing that really made Artemus' blood boil, it was someone who would hurt a child. He'd never figured Manzeppi for that type somehow, for all that he knew the leader of the Eccentrics was a cold-blooded killer. But from here on out, he and Darkwing would have to look for other clues if they were going to find her. Artemus just hoped they found her still alive.

Darkwing had kept the bow and each of the small arrows they'd found so far. He was just picking up the small quiver when they both heard the girl's cries from somewhere down the hallway ahead of them.

"Let me go! Help!"

"Gosalyn!" Darkwing gasped. Heedless of any danger to himself, the masked mallard took off toward the sound of that voice at a full run faster than anything Arte could manage. Artemus took off after him, and as he did so, the girl's frantic pleas came again.

"Let me go! Help!"

Artemus almost froze in his tracks at the sound. Identical – absolutely identical. With his musician's ear for cadence, Artemus Gordon knew a recording when he heard one. This wasn't a live performance – it was a record disc or cylinder on repeat play. Darkwing obviously hadn't noticed the difference though.

"Hang on! I'm coming!" he yelled, still racing forward as the call came again.

"Let me go! Help!"

"Darkwing, wait!" Artemus shouted, racing to catch up. "It's a –"

The words temporarily died in his throat as he and Darkwing came to the end of the hall and the entrance into yet another large chamber, which did indeed contain the child they were looking for. Only now Darkwing and Artemus could see for themselves that she wasn't doing the shouting at the moment – her duck bill had been tied shut and the rest of her was tied up as well, dangling from the ceiling, suspended by a rope over a recessed pit in the floor. She saw them coming and though she couldn't speak, her eyes went wide with terror and she began shaking her head, trying to warn them not to come any closer. But the warning came too late. The hallway, which had seemed solid enough and death-device free as they'd run down it, suddenly tilted up behind them, sending both sliding straight down into the pit. As they landed with a thud, sharp spikes rose up around the sides of the pit.

" . . . . trap," Artemus concluded gloomily.


	7. Down And Out

Morgana Macawber had been right, as she often was. Standing just outside the bizarre train called The Wanderer for some reason, she took no satisfaction in this. She now understood her earlier sense of foreboding, and her visions of a castle and a steam-powered locomotive. Much good that knowledge did her. Even as she gazed across the horizon in the direction from which they'd come, she felt nothing but fear and frustration. Her darling Dark was somewhere back there, facing who knew what deadly dangers in his attempt to rescue Gosalyn – without Morgana and her sorcerous powers by his side. He wasn't alone, true. He had two kindly Secret Service agents with him, but who knew how competent they were? And Megavolt wasn't alone either. The voltage-craving villain had teamed up with some sort of criminal mastermind native to this unsettling realm. She'd never heard of this Count Manzeppi character before, but according to James West's and Artemus Gordon's descriptions, he was at least as bad as Negaduck! Just the thought of Negaduck was enough to make Morgana shudder. And the Count might have other allies, servants and vile weapons within that castle . . . .

How could she, Morgana Macawber, stand here and do nothing while two of her loved ones were in terrible danger? What kind of Justice Duck was she? She should be helping them! She should be at that castle too!

"Fiddlesticks," she muttered to herself.

Oh, Morgana understood the _official_ reasons for making her wait back by the train. She and her magic might be her group's only ticket back to their own world. There was Honker's safety to consider as well. That poor little boy hadn't asked, well, not exactly, to be dragged into this multidimensional mess. But dragged he was, and now babysat he must be. Yet there were others here who could surely handle that job. Well, maybe Launchpad wasn't the _best_ babysitter . . . . Judging by what had happened so far, Honker might do a better job of babysitting _him_! There was also Archie, certainly competent if a bit . . . small. Of course, the train's pair of engineers were both strangers and, yes, strange. It wasn't reasonable to entrust _them_ with such an important task. And poor, poor Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring – his best babysitting days were clearly far behind him, by decades or maybe centuries. Morgana knew an _unofficial_ reason she was sidelined too - that her Dark darling was as protective and worried about her own safety in this place as he was about Gosalyn's.

Yet . . . .

Oh, what to do? What to do?

Morgana was still a trifle worn with the effort it had taken to bring them all here from their own home world. That didn't mean she couldn't at least try to seek out some more mystic visions that might prove helpful. She could do that much right here.

"Yes . . . ." she mumbled, closing her eyes, holding out her arms and trying to concentrate, trying to feel the psychic vibrations . . . . Yes . . . . There it was . . . . Another vision . . . . a sight and sound taking shape . . . .

_No!_

"Noooooo!" Morgana shrieked, waving arms wildly to push the terrible image away . . . .

At the sound of her scream, Launchpad, Honker, the engineers Orrin and Silas all came running to see her standing there, eyes suddenly wide and staring in the direction of Manzeppi's castle. Archie scuttled near too, and something slightly decomposed shambled forward as well.

"Morgana!" Launchpad shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders to snap her out of her spell. "What's wrong?"

She blinked, but her eyes became wide with fear again.

"Oh! Launchpad, they're in trouble! I have to do something! I have to go and help somehow!"

Honker and Launchpad exchanged worried glances.

"Uh, maybe I should go instead!" Launchpad volunteered. "I know DW wants-"

"No!" Morgana cried. "It has to be me! My mystic powers tell me so!" As terrified as she was by what she'd just seen in the sorcerous ether, she did her best to regain control of herself for all their sakes. "Launchpad, if I don't go back there . . . ." Morgana looked down and saw an anxious Honker staring up at her, so she tried to think how to word it. ". . . . That is, if I don't go, things will be . . . ungood."

Launchpad gulped and nodded. No one would ever accuse him of being the juiciest highlighter in the supply closet, but he sensed what she was getting at.

"Right. Ungood." Launchpad nodded again, and gave Honker a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Then don't you worry about us! You go and do what you have to, and Honker 'n' me will take care of things here, won't we, buddy?"

Honker nodded solemnly.

"I'll have Eek and Squeak with me," Morgana said, patting on her tall bathive hairdo. "But I'll leave Archie here as well in case there's trouble. I'll be back as quickly as I can, I promise!" And with that, Morgana made a gesture in the air once again and began to vanish into thin air.

"Good luck, Morgana," Launchpad whispered as she disappeared.

[WWWWWWWWWWWW]

"Hmmmphh!" Silas grunted, having failed to see what all the excitement was about. He was already stomping back toward his duty station in the locomotive's engine compartment.

"Huh," Orrin exhaled, puzzled by what he'd just witnessed himself. Both of the engineers were keeping their distance from the visitors, as they often did with folks who visited the Wanderer. He'd agreed with Silas' initial assessment that they were a bunch of odd ducks. He'd still come running when he'd heard the tall female one scream a moment earlier, but kept back, ready to draw his revolver, not interfering when he hadn't seen any actual danger present. He couldn't hear all of what the visitors said among themselves, though he'd been astonished by the way the female one simply waved her arms and suddenly disappeared. How had she done that? He looked back toward Silas. "Did you see . . . ?"

Silas' response was another grunt and a complaint more than a comment.

"I sees what I'm paid to see!" he snapped. "We've got a job to do, remember?"

Orrin frowned and followed. Silas had a point. Whatever was going on, it would be up to the agents to follow, as they usually did. But in Orrin's opinion, _these_ visitors were the strangest lot yet!

[WWWWWWWWWWWW]

With surprisingly little opposition, they'd almost made it all the way to the ground floor without incident. That was what kept Jim West in his state of highest alert. In his experience, it was when you thought you were home free that you were most in danger. The light at the end of the tunnel would turn out to be an armed gang led by Dr. Loveless wielding a death lantern or something. No escape from one of Count Manzeppi's lairs should be _this_ easy. The fact that Jim had a nervous, ungainly civilian to protect should have made the way even more difficult. And yet, here they were, with what might be a path to a clear exit dead ahead.

Emphasis on the dead part?

No other choice. They couldn't go back, so he and Dr. Denver would just have to find out the hard way. Cautioning the dentist to remain standing in his current spot, Jim stepped forward first and tossed a coin from one of his pockets to test the floor in the chamber ahead of them. Nothing happened for several seconds. Then, in the air just above where the coin had fallen, sparkles began to appear . . . .

[WWWWWWWWWWWWW]

What's the worst that could happen?

Artemus Gordon wondered as he tried to assess the situation he and Darkwing – and the kidnapped child – were now in as fast as possible. There was a lot of 'worst' to go around. Along with Darkwing, he was at the bottom of a circular pit that had appeared in this chamber's floor. The pit was surrounded by sharp metal spikes mounted in a mechanized framework that had begun slowly pushing inward. To make matters more dire, only seconds after they'd gotten to their feet, the floor of the pit had sprayed out an ochre mist containing some sort of glue. Darkwing and Artemus were now stuck fast where they stood with no means of escape. The child they'd come to rescue wasn't in a much better position above them. They couldn't reach or untie her. She was out of range of the spikes at least, but distressed at their dilemma. If they couldn't find some way out of this mess, Artemus realized, the poor kid might be forced to watch her own father die. Not that Artemus wanted her to see _him_ die either! Could the fix they were in possibly be any worse?

Then Arte heard the sound of Count Manzeppi's laughter and knew.

Why, yes. Yes, it could.

The flamboyant Count himself appeared at the edge of the pit to look down at his captive audience, although he was the one to clap. Arte noticed that one side of Manzeppi's face appeared to be a bit swollen, but was still managing to wear a smug smirk that the Secret Service agent would've dearly loved to erase with his fists.

"Well, well, Mr. Gordon," Manzeppi chuckled. "We have a new partner, I see! But where, pray tell, is your other partner?"

"Oh, Jim couldn't make it," Arte said with a shrug. "He had to return a library book that was overdue."

The Count tsked and waggled a finger down at them.

"Come now! Surely you don't expect me to believe that. I would rather think, gentlemen, assuming you _are_ both gentlemen," Manzeppi glanced at Darkwing and raised his eyebrows, "that you would prefer to be truthful with me, if you see my point." He gestured around at the circle of moving spikes. "Or points, as the case might be."

Darkwing glared up at him with a look that should have melted cement, but Artemus knew who Manzeppi was more focused on.

"Look," Artemus called up. "It's me you want, so why don't you just let these, uh, other folks go?"

Manzeppi rolled his eyes heavenward and placed his beringed right hand over his breast with a sigh.

"Ah, such noble sentiments!" the Count sighed again. "Such willing self-sacrifice and appeal for mercy to the hardest of hearts! Alas, Mr. Gordon," he looked back down at them, "I am not a great believer in mercy. Though I assume you would like the child at least spared?"

Darkwing nodded vigorously and stared upward himself, though not at the Count. Artemus narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, feeling a cold fury. He had a pretty good idea of what was going to come next and didn't try to plead again.

Manzeppi did just what Artemus predicted.

"Unfortunately, according to my good friend Mr. Megavolt, she, like the two of you, is what he called a 'do-gooder,' and I, as you know, am not. So . . . ."

With another clap of the Count's hands, the rope keeping said child suspended from the ceiling disappeared.

"No!" Darkwing cried as she came hurtling downward. He and Artemus put their hands out and managed to catch her, just barely. She wasn't hurt. But now she wasn't safe from the spikes either. Darkwing hugged her tightly, but even if he tried to use his own body as a shield, he wouldn't be able to protect her from this.

"Now then, Mr. Gordon," Manzeppi smiled, gesturing at the ring of spikes again. "Don't you feel you ought to tell me where your partner Mr. West is? It seems to me you have a lot at stake."

So that was the Count's game. Threaten not just one but two innocent hostages to get the information he wanted. Trouble was, even if Artemus thought for one second that Manzeppi would let Darkwing and the girl live (which he didn't any longer) and if he was willing to give up that information (which he wasn't), Artemus couldn't be sure of exactly where Jim was at the moment.

And that remained the case for at least ten seconds.

"Right here."

Artemus couldn't see Jim from where he was at first, but that was definitely Jim's voice! He and Darkwing, with their feet stuck in place, had to crane their necks to see what was happening above them. They could see Manzeppi well enough, and as the spikes moved in closer and closer, his attention was no longer on them.

"Ah, Mr. West," the Count grinned in his lazy fashion. "How good of you to join us. Also, how very predictable."

The response they heard next came not from James West, but from the yet-unseen Morgana Macawber.

"Release them, you . . . you fiend!" she shouted angrily. "Or so help me, I'll . . . ."

Darkwing gasped and he and the girl both looked up toward the sound of that voice.

"Morgana, watch out for the floors!" Darkwing yelled. "They're rigged to-"

His warning came just in time. Now he and Darkwing could see Morgana and Jim as they hopped aside to avoid the treacherous tilting panel that had trapped the other two. Jim had his gun leveled at Manzeppi, but from somewhere behind the Count, a small electrical blast came flying to zap it out of his hand. Jim jerked his arm back in pain.

"Megavolt!" Darkwing growled. "I might have known!"

Sure enough, the yellow-clad villain appeared at the rim of the pit. Two bad guys and two rescuers now faced each other in what looked to be a very non-traditional Mexican standoff.

"And what do we have here?" Manzeppi chuckled. "A duck woman too? Quite the quaint little family gathering, if not for long."

Morgana raised both of her arms, which began to glow and Megavolt, with a snarl, jumped aside to dodge an attack. But the bolt of green mystic energy that shot from Morgana's hands wasn't aimed at him. It struck the contracting ring of spikes instead, causing them to grind to a halt and not a moment too soon. The effort wearied her, and she almost fell forward into the pit. Jim managed to pull her back. The spell seemed to have an even more dramatic effect on Manzeppi. The Count's normal droll and conceited mask slipped and he gaped at Morgana in astonishment.

"A magical spell-casting . . . ?" he exclaimed. "You are an Enchantress!"

"Not for you, buster!" Darkwing shouted. But stuck to the floor of the pit and still holding onto his little girl, there wasn't much he could do to defend her from Manzeppi. She appeared faint and Jim was still disarmed. Manzeppi or Megavolt were neither, and there looked to be little hope of rescue for the pit's prisoners – two of them, anyway. Artemus could see the concern on his Secret Service partner's face and knew Jim understood the odds as well. He and Morgana would have no choice to retreat – though not alone.

"Is Mr. West good at catching?" Darkwing asked in an urgent whisper.

Artemus nodded, both of them thinking the same thing. Darkwing gave the little girl an affectionate peck/duck kiss on the forehead, then held her out so that he gripped her on one side and Artemus on the other. In unison, they swung her back, then forward, then back and . . . .

"Jim – catch!" Artemus yelled, and in one, swift Alley Oop motion they tossed her in a high arc toward James West. He reached out and caught the girl just as they'd hoped.

"Get them to safety Mr. West – please!" Darkwing shouted up at him.

He didn't have to plead twice. Jim motioned to Morgana to flee ahead of him, though she looked back in torment at the pit still containing her Dark darling.

"Go!" Darkwing and Artemus yelled simultaneously. They each drew the guns they'd had on their persons – Darkwing his gadget gun and Artemus his Colt – intent on covering Jim, Morgana and the girl's escape. Megavolt foiled their best intentions, zapping the guns away with a stinging electrical force that numbed their hands for a moment. Jim had his own hands full – literally, and Morgana was tired but they headed for the exit. As Count Manzeppi and Megavolt seemed likely to catch them, Morgana had one more non-trick up her sleeves. She pointed toward the ceiling over Megavolt and Manzeppi's heads and recited a quick, improvised incantation.

"_Magical forces, stop these fellows! Turn their chandelier to Gel-o!"_

The Count and his newest Eccentric barely had time to glance up as one of Manzeppi's large chandeliers magically transformed into an enormous gelatin mold the size of a haystack, ripping unsupported from the ceiling chain. The massive, translucent, colorful dessert blob crashed down on Megavolt and Manzeppi, causing them to hit the floor hard in the midst of a pile of glistening gelatin globules.1 Count Manzeppi howled in agony and grabbed at his cheek as the force of the fall jarred his bad tooth, but neither villain had suffered a knockout blow. They both struggled to get up from the puddle of slippery, sweetened slime.2 Morgana, now thoroughly spent, had to lean on Jim as they fled, but with the enemy even more slowed down, they made it out of the chamber. Artemus, watching and silently rooting for their escape, saw a pair of bats go fluttering up into the dark rafters of the chamber's ceiling, wondering where they'd come from, and hoped they weren't some of Manzeppi's 'pets' that he might use to pursue Jim and Morgana.

"**By the Accursed Behemoth of Atlantis**!" Manzeppi roared in fury. "**Owww**!"

No cursed behemoths materialized as the portly Count, slipping, sliding and balancing with difficulty, managed to rise to his feet. His picture-of-rage manner was robbed of what dignity he had left by the way he covered his swollen cheek with one hand and the splotches of colorful, fruit-scented ooze which covered the rest of him. Spindly-figured Megavolt got up slower, and it was obvious the two arch-criminals were too late to follow the escapees. Artemus, never one to pass up the opportunity to create a diversion, did something he knew would get under Manzeppi's skin even more:

He began laughing.

"Hey, Count! Looks like you're getting your just desserts! Now all you two need is some custard sauce for a topping!"

"And don't forget the nuts and cherry!" Darkwing joined in, aiming his laughter at Megavolt. "Oh, wait, Mega-bulb-brain! I forgot – you're nuts already!"

As desired, the taunts kept the villains' attention focused on them and not on the fleeing trio.

"You think this is _**funny**_, Mr. Gordon?" Count Manzeppi shook his arms with outrage, not helping his case any by the bits of gelatin that flew off of them. "You won't be laughing when I get done with you!"

"Or you either, Dork-wing!" Megavolt howled.

The high-wattage supervillain aimed his fists down at the glued-in-place prisoners and zapped them both with enough force to make them stop laughing and slump to the ground as the electricity finally caused their feet to come unstuck. Megavolt's and Manzeppi's snarling, gelatin-slick faces glaring down were the last things Artemus Gordon saw before he lost consciousness.

1 Let's hear you say _that_ three times fast!

2 Or that.


	8. Down And Desperate

"We've got to go back!" Gosalyn wailed. "We've got to rescue my . . . got to rescue Darkwing!"

"Shhh . . . ." Morgana held her close and tried to comfort her as much as possible. She'd managed to untie the girl, difficult as that was while riding astride a black stallion with James West sitting behind them holding the reins. It was an awkward arrangement, but Dr. Denver on Artemus Gordon's horse took up that entire saddle all by himself. The four of them might have made their escape from Manzeppi's stronghold, but it wasn't a happy maneuver.

"I _will_ go back," Jim said quietly. "For Darkwing – and my partner. But first I've got to get the three of you to safety. Once Manzeppi realizes his other prisoner has flown the coop with us, he'll want to use Darkwing and Artemus as bargaining chips to get Dr. Denver back."

The dentist, who'd remained uncharacteristically silent on the ride up to this point, gasped and turned pale at the very mention.

"You . . . you wouldn't . . . turn me over to him again, would you?" Denver quailed.

"No," Jim shook his head. "And not because I don't care about them, but because I do. If Manzeppi got his hands on you, he wouldn't have any reason to keep them alive. And whatever he says, you can't trust him as far as you can throw him. He's a killer, without honor or remorse."

That returned all of them to silence for several minutes except for Gosalyn's stifled sobs.

"This is all my fault," she murmured in the quiet. "Honker was right. If I'd stayed in my room and studied like I was supposed to, then none of this would have happened!"

"Even me being taken prisoner by that man?" Dr. Denver asked, puzzled.

"No – that one's all on Manzeppi," Jim corrected him. "And if not for _you,_" he said to Morgana, "_I_ would probably have wound up in that pit too and my partner and I would both be shish-ka-bobs by now. Thanks."

Morgana turned to face him as much as she could, though not to receive a compliment.

"I had the most horrible magic vision!" she confessed. "I _had _to do something! That wicked, evil man! I'm just glad I was able to interfere as much as I could to prevent it from coming true!" She hugged Gosalyn closer to her and shook her head sadly. "I've been able to alter the course of events, but is it enough?"

"You can see into the future?" Jim asked.

"Not at the moment." She shook her head again. "Whenever one does something to change a foreseen occurrence, the picture becomes blurred for quite a while. Now I don't know how things will turn out!"

"They'll turn out all right," Jim said firmly. "Because I'm going to _make_ them turn out all right. I'll get your . . . Darkwing . . . back," he told Gosalyn, ruffling her hair. He had little doubt what the relationship was between these duck people and didn't think Manzeppi's comment about 'family gathering' had been wide of the mark. He'd get Darkwing _and_ Artemus back safe, he promised himself, if he had to take apart Manzeppi and his entire castle to do it!

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

The first thing Artemus Gordon saw when he regained consciousness was also the last thing he'd wanted to see – Count Manzeppi's bloating, gloating face staring down at him. He'd either been unconscious for a while or Manzeppi was a record-worthy rapid bather as well as quick change artist, because there wasn't a trace of gelatin anywhere on Manzeppi's perfectly coiffed beard, mustache, salt-and-pepper hair or outfit. The Count's calm, lazy outward demeanor had returned to his face too, but Manzeppi's cheek appeared more swollen than ever and there was a quiet, potentially volcanic anger shining out from behind those half-lidded blue eyes.

"Awake finally, I see," the Count drawled. "Did you enjoy your little nap?"

"I've had better," the Secret Service agent quipped. "Although I can't complain to the management that the mattress isn't firm enough." Sizing up his situation, Artemus realized he was strapped down to a hard wooden table or platform of some kind. He could barely move. Darkwing was strapped down onto the same surface right next to him and had evidently regained consciousness sooner than Artemus had. The masked mallard snorted and glared up at their captor.

"Management hah! I've been in flea markets with more organization than this place!" Darkwing scoffed and craned his head up at Manzeppi. "_You're_ just lucky I'm willing to let you surrender and come quietly, pal!"

"I see neither of you has lost your questionable sense of humor," Manzeppi responded drily. "Or perhaps the electrical jolt you received has left you both delusional. In either case, I think you will find my temper is wearing very thin. So perhaps, Darkwing Duck – if that is indeed your name – you would care to tell me something more about that magically gifted female companion of yours? And as for you, Mr. Gordon, you might speak a message to Mr. West that would persuade him to exchange a certain dentist for your miserable life." The Count held up a tiny gramophone-cylinder device to record anything Artemus or Darkwing might say, but both prisoners clamped their mouths shut and chose to stare up at the ceiling instead. They were in a different dungeon chamber than the one with the pit, though Artemus noticed this one contained an alarming thematic link to the other, suspended from the rafters in place of another chandelier. Artemus' face must have betrayed the tiniest bit of terror upon noticing, because Count Manzeppi followed the agent's gaze and chuckled as he gestured upward with an ornate walking stick.

"Ahhh, yes! A most fine literary inspiration from your Mr. E. A. Poe! And every bit as razor sharp as the one in his story, I assure you! Though a quite a bit larger – big enough for two, you might say."

The pendulum mounted on the ceiling wasn't swinging back and forth – yet. It was currently held in place at the top of one arc by a thick length of rope that tied around the massive blade's handle on one end and ran through a series of metal hoops all the way down to a hook with a wall-mounted candle sconce directly beneath it. Count Manzeppi watched both of his captives take in the full décor arrangement before speaking again.

"As you may have noticed," Manzeppi continued, tapping at the candle sconce with the tip of his cane, "I have arranged for a double suspension of suspense in order to give my guests adequate time to cooperate. If either of you have any silly notion that I am not going to get what I want, you may dismiss it right now. At this very moment, my friend Mr. Megavolt is following your comrades back to the train, the better to procure for me a certain dentist and your charming if rather alarmingly beaked Sorceress. Should he succeed in obtaining them without my need for your cooperation, you two cut-ups will find out just how sharp my temper can be!"

Artemus and Darkwing continued to stare up at the ceiling in mutual mute refusal to give the Count any satisfaction.

"Very well then," Manzeppi sighed and with a snap of his fingers caused a small flame to jut out of the tip of one of them. He held the small flame up to the wick of the sconce's candle until it was lit and flickering near the base of the rope. "As this should take some time and I am rather busy with another project, I shall let you enjoy this particular slice of life on your own until I return. I will so look forward to speaking with you then." Manzeppi blew out his fingertip and gave them a florid little wave of the hand as he exited the dungeon. "Pleasant screams!"

Artemus and Darkwing watched him leave before they dared to say or do anything. They both tried tugging at the restraints keeping them bound to the table, individually and then in unison, but it was no use. They were held tight and the candle flame was beginning to make the base of the rope smolder. Artemus stared back up at the pendulum blade and stopped trying so hard to look stoic and unafraid.

"Boy, Manzeppi's not the only thing around here that's edgy, is he? Much as I normally like to be in the swing of things . . . ." He tugged at the restraints again before looking back at the smoldering rope. "Wonder how long we've got before that burns through."

Darkwing didn't have an answer. Instead, since he was on the side closest to the candle he tried with all his might to blow it out. Also no use – the candle was still too far away and made nothing more than a slight fluttering in response. In spite of being winded by his hyperventilation efforts, Darkwing made one more effort to get free of the restraints. Count Manzeppi's boasts had rendered him one desperate duck.

"Gotta . . . save Morgana and . . . ." he grimaced and gritted his – yes, he definitely had teeth inside that bill of his, Artemus noticed. Artemus began straining again at the same time to help him, but they were unable to pull the straps loose. They both collapsed back, panting. In partial answer to Artemus' question, the thick rope, instead of merely smoldering, began to spark little embers of flame.

"Doesn't . . . look . . . good . . . ." the out-of-breath Secret Service agent rasped.

Darkwing nodded in agreement and despair. He turned his head toward Artemus, misery all over his masked face.

"My fault . . . ." Darkwing panted, ". . . you're in this . . . mess. Wouldn't be . . . if you weren't . . . trying to help me . . . rescue . . . ." He hesitated, but Artemus already knew who he meant.

"Gosalyn. That's your . . . little girl's name . . . isn't it?"

Darkwing's eyes went wide with astonishment, then he must have remembered or realized he'd shouted her name out loud when they'd heard her cries for help.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," Artemus added. _Especially if we don't live through this!_ "And no need . . . for apologies. I wouldn't be _me_ if I didn't try to help you . . . . And you'd be surprised . . . at the fixes Jim and I get into . . . all the time!"

Gosalyn's name wasn't the only thing Darkwing thought he'd been keeping secret.

"How'd you know she was my little girl?"

As obvious as _that_ had been from the beginning, Artemus didn't want to chide Darkwing about his lack of subtlety.

"Oh, I, uh, noticed the family resemblance."

That too puzzled Darkwing until he realized Artemus was referring to their near-identical masks and capes. He chuckled sadly, then turned serious again.

"That's my fault too," he murmured. "If Gos wasn't trying so hard to imitate me . . . . She's adopted, actually," he admitted. "She's an orphan just like I was, and now she's the family I never had before, only . . . because of me she keeps getting into danger, wanting to grow up so fast and be a superhero like me." He sighed. "I never knew my own Dad. Maybe that's why I don't make a very good one myself." For the first time, Darkwing sounded utterly defeated.

"Don't be too sure of that," Artemus told him. "If she wants to be like you, it's because she looks up to you. _She_ doesn't think you're a bad parent. From what I've seen, I don't think you are either. The world is full of people who abandon or mistreat their children. You're willing to risk your life to save her - so let's not give up now!"

At that moment, the glowing embers on the rope's surface kindled into flame and it started burning directly. The realization made them both look up and gulp.

"Uh, I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?" Artemus asked hopefully.

Darkwing shook his head.

"No – you?"

Artemus was wondering if this might really be the end when the pair of bats he'd seen flying into the rafters earlier suddenly swooped in and began circling around their heads, chirping anxiously.

"Eek and Squeak! Am I ever glad to see you guys!" Darkwing exclaimed. "We need your help!"

To Artemus' astonishment, the bats appeared to be listening.

"You're on a first name basis with bats?"

"Just these two," Darkwing said. "They're Morgana's familiars! She must have sent them to help us!"

The bats flew in formation and nodded in unison.

"Listen," Darkwing told them, "we need you to put out that fire and stop the rope from burning – fast!"

Eek and Squeak immediately flew to obey, though they didn't seem to know how to perform the task. They tried blowing it out by flapping their wings at it, but that only seemed to fan the flames higher, so they stopped and cheeped at one another before flying back out of the torture chamber. Artemus wondered if the familiars might have abandoned them, but a moment later Eek and Squeak reappeared, laboring under the weight of a bucket they'd found somewhere. In spite of seeming too small even to lift it, they somehow managed to fly it above the level of the flame and with great, great effort tilted it so that a cascade of water came down and extinguished both the rope and the candle flame.

Artemus and Darkwing both sighed with relief and the two small bats chirped happily and high-winged one another. But their celebration came a moment too soon. The wet rope, already weakened by fire, began to untwine under the great weight it had been supporting. As the bats and the wooden platform's prisoners watched in horror, the remaining charred bits of hemp stretched, unraveled and then snapped. With a mighty creak, the pendulum swung loose from its high-arced position and began its deadly back-and-forth dance of descent. The razor-sharp metal whistled with menace.

"Out of the frying pan and into the barber shop," Artemus muttered, "and we're in for a very close shave!"


	9. Down The Track

Honker was so well behaved, he was never any trouble to babysit. Well, hardly ever . . . . Now Morgana's Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring, on the other hand . . . .

Launchpad, in spite of the fact that _he_ wasn't facing any deadly dangers at the moment, still had to force himself to be brave. Dealing with any member of the Macawber family except Morgana always gave him the creeps. He had to force himself to be LOUD too, since Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring wasn't just half dead – he was half deaf as well. And Launchpad might soon join him in this, since Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring thought everyone else was as hard of hearing as he was.

"I SAID," the old geezer rapped Launchpad on the knees with his cane, "WHERE'S THAT GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRAND-DAUGHTER OF MINE RUN OFF TO WITH THAT CONSARNED MASHER OF HERS THAT I'M SUPPOSED TO KEEP AN EYE ON?"

"I TOLD YOU," Launchpad shouted back. "SHE'S GONE TO HUNT THE FORCES OF EVIL!"

"EH – WHAT'S THAT?"

"SHE'S GONE TO HUNT THE FORCES OF EVIL!"

"PUNT THE FORCES OF EVIL?" Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring snorted in disgust. "YOU DON'T _PUNT_ THE FORCES OF EVIL, SONNY! YOU'VE GOTTA KICK 'EM HARD!" To demonstrate, the musty Macawber oldster landed a shockingly solid roundhouse kick on one corner of the Wanderer's pool table. "OUCH!" The table didn't surrender to the ancient sorcerer, though the entire piece of furniture shook hard enough to send one of the billiard balls ricocheting and then bouncing off just as the Wanderer's engineers came running to see what the ruckus was _this_ time. Orrin and Silas had barely entered the varnish car when they saw the billiard ball bouncing straight at them. Knowing it for what it was, they tried to turn around and get out of its way, but didn't move fast enough. The white ball burst open and enveloped the two engineers in a compact cloud of green gas. Almost instantly they dropped to the floor and Slumberland, while Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring went hopping off in another direction to nurse his throbbing foot.

"Oh, no!" Honker cried, having witnessed the whole thing. He ran over to shake the engineers and wake them up but they were out like lights. "What'll we do, Launchpad?"

"Gee, I dunno!" The big duck pilot scratched his head in consternation. "DW's billiard balls never do that! I mean, some of them explode or give off sonic attacks, but they don't do that!"

Launchpad had just lifted the unconscious engineers onto one of the varnish car's sofas when he and Honker heard the rapid clop of horses' hooves outside. Honker's eyes went wide with excitement.

"It's the others! They're back!"

Babysitter and babysat ran out to greet the returned group.

"Gosalyn!" Honker cried, practically flying up to greet his playmate as Morgana handed her down to Launchpad. "You're all right!"

Launchpad whooped and held her up, laughing with relief.

"Hey, Gos, are we ever glad to see you! We were so worried about you . . . ."

Then Launchpad noticed how unhappy the little girl was. And _then_ he noticed how unhappy Morgana was and . . . .

"Uh, where're DW and that other fella with the funny name?" he asked, looking around.

Gosalyn immediately began bawling and so did Morgana. They collapsed against Launchpad and Honker in a group hug of misery while James West introduced Dr. Denver and gave them a summary of the grim situation.

"But I'm going back to rescue them," Jim explained. "As soon as I've grabbed some special equipment, I'll . . . ."

"I oughtta go too," Launchpad volunteered. "I mean, I'm DW's official sidekick and all . . . ."

Morgana, though she longed to participate in the rescue mission, was obviously too exhausted, and Launchpad knew DW would never want her to be put in danger. He and Honker were still trying to console Gosalyn and Morgana and hadn't yet had a chance to tell the others about the mishap Orrin and Silas had suffered or to go looking for Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring.

Preoccupied as they all were, none of them noticed the tiny cloud of dust on the horizon approaching . . . .

[WWWWWWWWWWWWW]

"We'd better think of something fast!" Artemus didn't like to waste time stating the obvious, but it seemed to him that the pendulum was accelerating with each swing. "This isn't my idea of cutting-edge entertainment!"

"Mine neither!"

Eek and Squeak weren't helping matters any by flying about in distress so fast that watching them and the pendulum at the same time was enough to make one dizzy. The faithful bats weren't strong enough to undo the table straps or stop the pendulum's motion. Now they were flying in and out of the torture chamber bringing in random small objects in hope that something would be useful enough to save the two heroes. So far they'd retrieved Darkwing's gadget gun and Artemus' revolver along with an assortment of tools, weapons and torture devices of various variety, but nothing the familiars knew how to use themselves or that looked likely to assist. Just as the exhausted pair of bats was about to give up, they finally carried in something that seemed like Darkwing and Artemus' last hope – a small, double-handled hacksaw. As soon as they saw it, they had the bats place the hacksaw right between them where they could just barely reach it with their hands. Working together, they began sawing frantically at the thickest leather straps holding them down. They didn't have much range of motion, but it was enough, and the more they sawed through, the more they could move and saw. There really _was _no time to lose – the swinging blade above them was coming closer and closer. If Count Manzeppi had intended to return and taunt them some more, he was waiting awfully late in the game to do it. On the other hand, if he did return in time to see what they were up to before they could free themselves it would be 'game over' for real.

Eek and Squeak, unable to help further, positioned themselves near the doorway to act as lookouts, or perhaps because they were too anxious to keep watching. Artemus tried not to let the swishing, menacing blade distract him. At last, the two thickest of the leather straps gave way, and the others around their torsos were loose too. Their legs were still pinned, but if they made a mighty effort now, they'd have a decent chance of breaking free – or dying horribly. The blade was swinging low enough that attempting to sit up at the wrong moment could give either one the last haircut they would ever need.

Artemus looked at Darkwing and knew he had the same realization. If they wanted to save their lives, they'd have to coordinate their movements perfectly, without having had any chance for practice. It seemed surreal, Artemus thought. A handful of hours ago he'd have sworn that giant, humanoid talking ducks didn't exist and now he was depending on one to help save him. He couldn't doubt Jim's story from last year any longer.

"Count of three?" he asked his new and shockingly believable ally.

Darkwing nodded. They both had had plenty of time to watch the pendulum swing in its arcs to know how to time it. But if this didn't work exactly right . . . .

"One" _swish._

"Two" _swish._

"Three!"

With a mighty heave, Darkwing Duck and Artemus Gordon managed to pull off the last restraints and sit up just in time to dodge the swinging blade. It came so close that Darkwing lost a feather off the back of his head and Artemus a lock of hair. Working quickly and from a cramped position, they managed to free their legs and hop off Count Manzeppi's Table of Doom. Eek and Squeak took turns flying back and chirping around their heads happily while one remained on watch for the Count's return.

_I guess I'd better ask Jim if we can take bats off the menu too!_ Artemus thought.

Not that bats had ever been _on_ the menu, thankfully . . . .

Without any more small talk, Darkwing grabbed his gadget gun, his purple hat and a few other things Eek and Squeak had managed to dredge up in the dungeons. Artemus took his own monogrammed pistol and Jim's rattlesnake revolver from the stash pile plus some other potentially useful items. Now that his hands were free, he patted himself down and realized Count Manzeppi hadn't disarmed him as thoroughly as he might have. Manzeppi would regret that error. But speaking of Manzeppi . . . .

"Might I suggest we not wait around for our gracious host's arrival?" Artemus asked.

"Good idea, AG," Darkwing agreed. "Uh, any idea which way to go?"

Neither of them had been conscious when they'd been brought to the pendulum room, and they discovered upon looking out the exit that they weren't near the room that had contained the pit of spikes any longer. What lay past the pendulum room was a corridor containing several other doorways, none of them marked with a helpful Exit sign or mounted box of tourist maps. Eek and Squeak were asked if they knew the best way out, but flew around in confusion. The bats were long on echolocation and scent and short on directional memory, it seemed.

"Looks like we're just going to have to find and maybe fight our way out," Artemus sighed. "But before we leave here, there's one last thing I'd like to do." After instructing Darkwing and the bats to wait for him near the doorway, Artemus placed a large blob of one of his own homemade chemical concoctions on the table they'd been strapped to, and a fuse which he lit before running to join the others. If Manzeppi wanted to interrogate anyone again, he wouldn't be doing it in here without substantial renovation!

"Another good idea," Darkwing grinned as the explosive detonated behind them. "We oughtta wreck as much of this place as possible and take Manzeppi down for the Count too! I've got a score to settle with that bozo! And he's not going to get Morgana if I can help it!" He looked at Artemus. "I could use a hand, but I'll understand if you just want to get out of here without me. You and Mr. West have already risked your necks for us and this isn't going to be safe. Er, what do you say?"

Artemus returned the grin, patted his pockets again and gave the answer his newfound friend had inspired.

"Let's get dangerous!"

[WWWWWWWWWWW]

"Boy! (puff)," Megavolt huffed, "being a (puff) Force of Evil (puff) sure takes a lot (puff) of work these days!"

On Count Manzeppi's orders, Megavolt had gone in pursuit of the escaped quartet in order to retrieve the dentist Dr. Denver and Morgana Macawber. Unfortunately, the escapees had fled the castle's outer grounds on horseback and Manzeppi didn't have any horses. That left the only form of transportation Megavolt could use the physically demanding 'boneshaker' bicycle he was riding now. Absorbing the static electricity it picked up from being ridden across the dusty ground had kept Megavolt at full charge. But he hadn't spent any amount of time in a gym since his last prison escape and was getting winded. He'd have to use his electrical powers on Dr. Denver to suspend him in midair the same way he had Quiverwing Quack earlier, and tow the dentist back to Manzeppi's lair like a helium balloon. But as for that tricky Morgana . . . .

Megavolt didn't want to blow this job opportunity, but he had his own ideas for what to do with _her_ . . . . There was no way he was going to spare that stupid Dork-wing's Justice Duck girlfriend. She was almost as bad as Darkwing himself! No – Megavolt wasn't going to risk Morgana using her magical wiles on his new boss man whether Manzeppi had wanted her brought back alive or not!

The one detail about this assignment which seemed easy enough was that Count Manzeppi had told Megavolt exactly where to find his prey. All he had to do was look for a steam locomotive, and Manzeppi even had a map showing the nearby train tracks. He'd get those stupid, interfering do-gooders! They didn't know he was coming. They were probably all still worrying about Dork-wing and that other guy with the funny name. They'd all be sitting something-or-others!

Huffing and puffing, he spotted the Wanderer exactly where Manzeppi had predicted it would be. He braked the boneshaker to a halt as best he could and snuck through the clouds of dust toward the train and his unsuspecting victims . . . .

"I'll do everything I can to get them back, I promise," James West said.

"I know," Morgana nodded. "I just wish there were something more I could do to help. If only . . . ."

Megavolt could hardly believe his luck. The two people he most needed to zap right now if this mission were to succeed had conveniently isolated themselves. They were standing at a distance in front of the train, too, exactly where he wanted them, and they had no idea he was listening to every word they were saying and sneaking up on them.

"If only I could recharge my magical energies as quickly as Megavolt recharges his battery . . . ." Morgana was saying.

She never got to finish the sentence as Megavolt blasted her and her companion with a strong enough zap to stun them and leave them on the ground, temporarily unable to move.

"YES!" Megavolt cackled. Victory was his! Better than victory! Revenge would be his too! Gloves still sparking, he strode forward to crow over the fallen sorceress and agent. "But you _can't_ recharge as fast as I can, can you?" he taunted Morgana. "And now I'm gonna make you pay for . . . for whatever I'm making you pay for!"

While they were still paralyzed and helpless, Megavolt pulled his two victims directly onto the train tracks and began tying them up with the rope that James West had so conveniently been carrying on him. This was too perfect! Megavolt didn't even need to use the coil of wire he'd brought with him for the purpose. Well, not completely perfect . . . . He _did_ have a hard time dragging and arranging them. That part was exhausting. He felt more worn out than ever when he was finished, but it would all be worth it. Looking down the track, he made sure he had his prisoners lined up perfectly with the locomotive. Training day had arrived!

"I've always wanted to do this to somebody!" Megavolt laughed. "Now to start that engine up so you two can make like pancakes! Catch you flatter!"

The volt-powered villain jogged in the direction of the Wanderer. Now that Morgana and her meddling, weird-looking friend were almost taken care of, no one else on board the train would pose any threat to him at all. Although technically, Archie the spider, enjoying the web hammock he'd built between the Wanderer's cow-pusher and the ground and just now waking up to see what was going on wasn't 'on board' the train at all . . . .

"C'mon, Gos, cheer up," Launchpad said to the morose munchkin in earnest. "DW's been in _way _worse situations than this one and he's always gotten out of 'em okay."

Since being rescued and escaping the castle without Darkwing, the normally spirited child had been practically beside herself with worry. Even Honker hadn't been able to get her out of her gloomy mood. Honker and Launchpad were still doing their best, though, while a presence that normally would have terrified them all – a _dentist_ – sat on one of the varnish car's plush chairs keeping his distance from the talking, humanoid ducks and only watching them. At that very moment, though, Dr. Denver saw something descending from the varnish car's ceiling that made him jump up and point to the space over Launchpad, Honker and Gosalyn's heads with terror.

"S-SPIDER!" the dentist yelled before collapsing in a faint.

Launchpad and the children looked up to see what had frightened the dentist so.

"Oh, that's just Archie," Launchpad said, though Dr. Denver, like the train's engineers, was no longer listening. Launchpad, Gosalyn and Honker had to listen hard though, as Archie did some pointing of his own and cheeped frantically at them.

"Oh, no! Megavolt!" Honker moaned as the little spider alerted them to the danger they were in.

"And it sounds like he's got Morgana and Mr. West!" Launchpad gulped. The last babysitter standing, he barely had time to hustle the two children into the secret compartment/emergency exit hidden in the varnish car's fake fireplace before they heard the too-familiar sound of Megavolt's boots stomping closer. They all hid in darkness, remaining as quiet and still as possible while the deranged criminal took a quick look around the varnish car before striding toward the front of the train and the engine car. Only Archie, still unseen by Megavolt, dared to track the villain's progress.

"What kind of a train do you call this?" Megavolt frowned in disgust as he looked over the Wanderer's steam-powered drive. "Electricity would be way more efficient than this stuff! It's a good thing I have enough science education!"

He began fiddling with the controls that handled the train and releasing the wheel brakes. The train still didn't move forward as it hadn't been brought up to steam yet. The villain gritted his teeth in frustration and aimed a zap at the train's steam compartment. Slowly, the train's front wheels began rolling.

"Guess that'll have to do for now," Megavolt muttered, tossing some additional shovelfuls of coal into the train's furnace. Fast or slow, his revenge would be on track . . . .

Tied to the train tracks, Morgana and Jim saw the smoke rising up out of the Wanderer's chimney stack and saw the big engine begin to move forward. The paralysis caused by Megavolt's zap had worn off, but they were still bound, with death coming straight at them.

[WWWWWWWWWWWWW]

"Looks like this isn't going to be a snap," Artemus grimaced as he and Darkwing came to the edge of an alligator pit that was between them and the next corridor. "More like several of them!"

He and Darkwing had already succeeded in damaging or destroying at least three other rooms filled with some of Count Manzeppi's death-dealing devices, but they still hadn't found a way out of this dungeon or the Count himself either. By now, Manzeppi must surely be aware that they'd managed to escape from his pendulum and were wreaking as much havoc as they possibly could in his hideout. Who knew what the head of the Eccentrics might do to them if he caught them again? They would just have to catch _him_ first. But this latest turn in the maze had Artemus Gordon stymied. He had Jim's revolver, but not the other gun with the grapple-hook/cable attachment that would've enabled them to get past this latest toothy obstacle. On the other side of the alligator pit, a wooden drawbridge that might have allowed the two heroes on foot to cross safely stood up against the far wall, probably with another passage and maybe the way out of the castle behind it, but from where they were they had no means of pulling it down. Eek and Squeak flew across without any problem, weaving between all those snapping jaws below. But the bats weren't strong enough to pull down the drawbridge all by themselves.

"Pits surrounded by spikes, razor-sharp pendulums, alligator moats," Darkwing muttered. "That Count Manzeppi's been watching waaayyyyy too many B-movies, hasn't he?"

Artemus didn't know what a 'bee movie' was, but he wasn't going to bother Darkwing with a request for explanations at the moment. What they needed right now was a way out of this trap.

"I'm not sure I've got anything that'll handle this," he admitted.

"Never mind, AG! I've got this!" Darkwing said. Then, as Artemus watched in astonishment Darkwing, throwing all caution to the wind, simply leaped onto the closest alligator's back and ran along the startled creature's length before it could react, then jumped with agility to the next alligator, and the next, using the reptiles themselves as a bridge. "Ha!" the masked mallard kept up the conversation during his acrobatic performance, "Manzeppi just thinks stuff like this is scary because he's never had to attend a parent-teacher conference or chaperone a school field trip before! Now _that's_ scary!" The furious gators tried to bite at him, but every single one of them missed, although one of them did manage to chomp off a little bit of his purple cape before he reached the other side. Darkwing appeared not even to notice the danger involved in what he was doing, but as he made it to the ledge on the far side of the alligator pit and located a lever, he began to shudder. "Or trying to bake cupcakes for your little girl's birthday – brrrrr!"

The angry gators, who were all snapping now, regretted having their snouts in the air as Darkwing pulled the lever and lowered the drawbridge with a crash. The concussed creatures didn't give Artemus any trouble as he walked across the bridge to join Darkwing and the bats.

"What's so scary about that?" Artemus shook his head in confusion. "I love baking cupcakes!" Although he could genuinely believe that being a parent was terrifying. It took a pretty brave guy to do what Darkwing had done – adopt and try to raise a child in spite of never having the benefit of any parents himself. Artemus couldn't imagine ever becoming a parent. He certainly couldn't adopt while working for the Secret Service, and the one woman he'd ever loved enough that he'd be willing to give up his career and settle down with had already refused his marriage proposal. On their journey through the dungeon, Darkwing had spoken about how empty his superhero life had been, and how he'd never realized how lonely he was until he'd met Gosalyn and Launchpad and Morgana. Artemus had the best friend and Secret Service partner a guy could ever want in Jim West, but his life still felt lonely without Lily Fortune in it. He only wished Lily understood that too . . . .

"Sounds like we're getting closer," Darkwing whispered, snapping Artemus out of his brief reverie. Sneaking down the next hallway on the other side of the bridge, they could hear Count Manzeppi swearing and roaring in fury. The Count had been made aware of what they were up to, all right from the sound of it, and now Manzeppi was between them and possible freedom. Eek and Squeak scouted ahead and came back to chirp to Darkwing that the Count was in a vast storage area filled with all manner of materials, and that the room with the pit of spikes was just on the other side of that. Artemus, normally good at languages, hadn't been able to make any sense out of the bats' chirps, but Darkwing could and translated. Creeping forward as quietly as possible, Artemus and Darkwing saw the entrance to the great storage chamber with its profusion of objects, some of which might prove useful indeed. Then they retreated back to the hallway to come up with their battle plan. In spite of the danger ahead, Artemus couldn't help but smile in a wicked fashion as he and Darkwing discussed their possible next moves. Getting dangerous could be fun too, and with any luck, Count Manzeppi wouldn't know what was about to hit him . . . .


	10. Down And Dirty

"I don't suppose you've got any more spells that can get us out of this?" James West asked Morgana as the Wanderer began slowly rolling toward them.

Morgana shook her head and stared at the train in silent terror. She'd already tried to magically teleport them both off the tracks, but wasn't able to do so yet. None of her studies of sorcery had never covered this situation either.

"Hold on, I may have something," Jim said, and struggled against the bonds on his wrists to reach the dental tool he'd borrowed from Dr. Denver and stashed up his sleeve. If only he could reach it . . . . He knew from what the engineers had said that it could take as much as half an hour for the train to get up to steam. That process had already started. How long did he and Morgana have? With slightly numb fingers, he managed to grab the dental pick and began using it to tear at and fray the ropes holding them both prisoner. It was working. If only he had enough time . . . .

"Ewwww . . . ." Gosalyn wrinkled her beak with disgust. "This smells like nail polish remover!"

Gosalyn put the stopper back in the ornate glass bottle she'd noticed sitting in a cluster of others inside a half-globe piece of furniture along with some glasses in the varnish car. At the earliest opportunity, they'd snuck out of their hiding place to re-enter the varnish car while Megavolt was up in the engine car. Now Launchpad was keeping a nervous lookout in the train's stable car in case Megavolt started to walk back here.

"Gosalyn, what are you doing?" Honker whispered anxiously as she unstoppered and whiffed at another of the ornate bottles of liquid with no more satisfactory result.

"I'm looking for water, Honk!" she whispered back. "That's the one thing that can stop Megavolt, remember? Water makes him short out and lose all his power! You'd think they'd keep some on the train instead of all this stinky stuff!"

"Gosalyn, this is a _steam_ locomotive! That means they've got an entire tank of it!" Honker glanced nervously toward the front of the train. He was embarrassed to admit that he'd forgotten about Megavolt's greatest weakness, but now that Gosalyn had reminded him, they were no closer to being out of jeopardy or rescuing Morgana and Mr. West. The problem wasn't a lack of water, but rather where the water was located, and they had all heard and felt the starting rumble of the Wanderer's main engine and the wheels beginning their slow forward motion down the track. He quickly explained where the water resided, but didn't see how they were going to use it on Megavolt in time to foil his deadly plan.

Gosalyn knew it was her fault that Megavolt was here in the first place, and that Darkwing wasn't. She didn't need any more blame on her conscience – she had enough already. There _had_ to be something she could do! She didn't have her bow and arrows, and she now understood that she wasn't nearly as ready to be a superhero as she'd thought, but she just _had_ to stop Megavolt before it was too late! In sheer frustration, she kicked at one of the varnish car's lower panels and she and Honker hopped back in amazement as the panel slid open to reveal a hidden stash of objects. They didn't know what all of the objects were, but Gosalyn recognized one of them.

"Keen gear!" she whispered with excitement as she pulled out the small crossbow.

"Um, maybe that isn't the best . . . ." Honker started to say and then stopped and shrugged. They couldn't very well ask for permission to borrow the item while its owner might be tied up and in imminent danger of death. The only other adults on board besides Launchpad and Megavolt were all still unconscious. Whatever Gosalyn had in mind could be dangerous _and_ naughty, but common sense and safety didn't seem to be options at the moment.

Gosalyn, now back in full Quiverwing Quack fighting spirit for the emergency, explained the hasty plan she was coming up with to fight Megavolt and save his train track prisoners. It was, like almost all of her plans (and some of her father's, for that matter), a bit harebrained and dangerous, but there was a chance that it just might work. That was a chance they'd have to take if they wanted to rescue Mr. West and Morgana - and whatever else he was, Honker was no more a coward at heart than Gosalyn herself. He crept up to the stable car to explain things to Launchpad while Gosalyn armed the crossbow and got into position. The train was moving ahead so slowly that 'Quiverwing Quack' had no trouble jogging along beside it. Now for the tricky part . . . .

"GOSH, HONKER," Launchpad yelled as loud as he could, hoping Megavolt would hear them even through the noise the Wanderer's engine was making, "IS THAT DR. DENVER GETTING AWAY OUTSIDE THE TRAIN?"

He and Honker had hunkered down inside one of the empty horse stables in the middle train car and were now doing their best to put the hours spent in Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring's company to good use.

"SURE LOOKS LIKE IT TO ME, LAUNCHPAD! HE MUST'VE ONLY BEEN PRETENDING TO FAINT!"

"BOY, WON'T COUNT MANZEPPI BE MAD WHEN HE SEES THAT HIS DENTIST GUY HAS MANAGED TO ESCAPE!" Launchpad shouted, and peeked out to see that Megavolt was indeed hearing and becoming alarmed by this conversation, even if he couldn't see who was making it.

"YEAH! I BET *honk* HE'LL BE REAL ANGRY WITH MEGAVOLT WHEN HE FINDS OUT!"

Snarling and furious, Megavolt looked out to see a small cloud of dust being kicked up beside the Wanderer as if by someone running away.

"Oh, yeah?" he sneered, gloves sparking as he got up to pursue the determined dentist without bothering to check the varnish car first to see if it really was Dr. Denver making his getaway. "We'll see about that!"

But Megavolt saw dirt first when in his attempt to jump out via the engineer's exit door he was tripped up by a stretch of webbing Archie had sewn across the top step. The sparking villain had the breath knocked out of him by the headlong fall, and as he shook himself off and got up on his hands and knees, he was right where Quiverwing Quack needed him to be.

"YOU!" Megavolt shouted with anger as he saw the figure that emerged from the cloud of dust – a masked duck girl much smaller than Dr. Denver. Before Megavolt could raise himself all the way up or get the dust out of his eyes enough to hit her with one of his zaps, the young archer aimed and fired two crossbow bolts with unerring accuracy. "HA!" Megavolt sneered as the bolts whizzed by without hitting him. "Missed!"

"No I didn't," Gosalyn said and jumped out of the way as two streams of pressurized water shot out of the Wanderer's water tank and hit Megavolt right on the back where his giant battery was located. Gosalyn covered her eyes, knowing that what happened next wasn't going to be pretty . . . . Well, it _was_ going to be _sort of_ pretty, but too bright to stare at without being a bit blinded.

"EEEeeeeyYyaaahhhhh!" Megavolt cried as the blast of water and dusty, wet ground did their work. All of the electricity he'd managed to horde up began to spark and arc out of him at once, crackling down into the ground and giving him a heaping helping of his own medicine along the way. "EEEEeeee! OOOhhh! YAAaaaghhh!" he exclaimed, feeling shock after shock while surrounded by fireworks of his own unintentional making. When it was all over mere seconds later, the now-voltless villain lay in a smoking heap in a puddle of mud on the Wyoming Valley floor.

"I . . . hate . . . Physics . . . ." Megavolt raised his head up and groaned before passing out in the puddle.

"That should take care of him!" Gosalyn said, but didn't pause to gloat. "Oh, no!"

The train, in spite of what might be a loss of water pressure or Megavolt driving it was still inexorably rolling forward, and James West and Morgana were still tied to the train tracks. She didn't know what she was going to be able to do next to save them, but she tossed aside the crossbow and raced to reach them before the Wanderer did. It was all up to Honker and Launchpad McQuack now!

"Launchpad, you've got to stop the train – fast!" Honker gasped. He and Launchpad had raced into the engine car to reach the controls as soon as Megavolt had run out of it in pursuit of what he thought was an errant dentist. But looking at the unfamiliar array of levers and instruments, neither one was quite sure how to carry out their next part in Gosalyn's rescue plan.

"Gee, I dunno, Honk!" Launchpad said, trying to figure out exactly what he was looking at. "I've never crashed a steam-powered locomotive before!" He was boggled by all of the Wanderer's controls. But Morgana and Agent West and the kids were all counting on him! He had to make the right choice on instinct. The train was starting to pick up speed, too . . . .

"Aha!"

On the train tracks, Jim felt the last strand of rope give way under the pull of the sturdy dental pick. Using all his strength to pull away from the loops around his wrists and arms, he managed to jerk himself upright only to see this was no time for a-ha-ing. The Wanderer was headed straight toward them, and even if he could free his legs, he didn't know if he'd be able to untie Morgana in time too, so he began tugging away at the ropes holding her as fast as he could without worrying about himself. He had unexpected help. As if from out of nowhere, the little duck girl had appeared and was now trying to untie them both too. But there was no denying that their luck – and distance from the locomotive – were running out. Judging from the smoke coming out of its stack, the Wanderer was at full steam again and that meant it was about to turn them into human-and-duck tortillas.

"Leave me! Save yourselves!" Morgana pleaded as the train rolled closer and faster.

"Noooooo!" Gosalyn wailed, wrapping her little arms around Morgana and holding her tight.

Jim put a hand on Gosalyn's shoulder, preparing to shove her out of the way of the train before he and Morgana met their squishy end. But just as he was about to pry her loose from Morgana's waist, they all heard the Wanderer make a hideous screeching and groaning sound, and high-pitched squealing as it suddenly slowed to a halt, braked, and then began picking up speed again . . . backwards? As they watched in amazement, the train barreled back up the track in reverse, then squealed and screeched and braked again, but not before it ran over what looked like a bicycle on the other end of the tracks with a sickening crunch. Then the Wanderer halted again, vibrated and shuddered to a full stop before releasing a great cloud of steam and ceasing all activity as if exhausted.

"Yay!" Gosalyn whooped, letting go of Morgana just long enough to raise both her fists in a cheer of victory. Saved! "Way to go, Launchpad!"

Quickly, she and Jim untied his legs and all of Morgana and Jim sprang up to lift Morgana off the tracks, worried that crazy Megavolt might still be at the controls of the train, though Gosalyn said otherwise. But then Jim saw Launchpad stick his head and arm out the engineer's window and he couldn't help but exhale with relief. He and Morgana and everyone on board the train were going to live after all. But the moment of joy didn't last long as another terrible worry overtook James West's thoughts.

What was happening to his partner and Darkwing?

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

Count Manzeppi fumed in a mood so foul he hadn't thought it possible – he was already having the worst day he'd ever had in his life, and considering that time he'd been on the hunt for a priceless relic in the Okefenokee Swamp . . . or that _other_ time in the outhouse trench in the gambling quarter of Imperial China . . . .

Manzeppi's bad tooth was throbbing worse than before, he now had the beginnings of a headache from trying and trying at scrying to locate some red onions – the blasted things had to be available _somewhere!_ – without success, his kidnapped-_almost_-fair-and-square dentist was still absent, Megavolt having not brought back Dr. Denver _or_ that magnificent female mage, which meant that the intolerable James West probably had a hand in it. But _most_ annoying of all . . . . his last two prisoners had somehow escaped from the torture chamber he'd placed them in and to make matters worse were wrecking all his other precious dungeon rooms in devastating sequence. Manzeppi's careful work of decades was going up in smoke, or in several cases detonation, flames, dissolving acid pastes and downright vandalism of every kind. His precious castle sanctum was being ruined in a way that might never be repaired, and all because of that . . . that _meddling Artemus Gordon and that pestiferous purple duck! _What's more,Manzeppi should have been able to locate them easily within these walls but for some reason he could not. He had gone to great lengths many years ago to acquire a crystal ball that would allow him to see anywhere in this vast complex he wished, yet the crystal ball had gone cloudy – more of that witch Morgana's magic perhaps? So he was no closer to finding and recapturing them now than he had been a few hours ago when the first explosion had roused him from his red onion hunt to find his pendulum chamber in ruins. But he would find them, oh, yes he would, Manzeppi promised himself that and when he did . . . . yes, he would have his revenge! He, Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi would get his hands on them all! He would make James West and Artemus Gordon regret the day that their _descendant species_ had ever been born! And as for Mr. Darkwing . . . Manzeppi would salvage what little was left of his treasured iron maiden collection and then he would indulge his taste for pressed duck!

Yet just when he thought this day and his temper couldn't possibly get any worse, he heard a strange, popping detonation sound reverberate all around the capacious storeroom he was in. The thrice-dratted intruder gong had already gone off so many times he'd dismantled it, but this sound was different. Then the loud, deep, familiar and menacing voice began reverberating through the space as if it were coming from every direction at once.

"**I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!"**

It was the sort of vibrating bass that could be felt all the way to the bone marrow and go running up a lesser criminal's spine. A haunting, ghostly voice promising punishment. But surely that voice couldn't intimidate Count Manzeppi?

"**I AM THE JELLY BEAN THAT TEARS OUT YOUR DENTAL CROWN!"**

Manzeppi clasped at his cheek as the vibration from that threat made his tooth impossibly throb even more. Then, as he looked up and all around for the source of the sound, Manzeppi saw a cloud of thick purple smoke burst forth from the top of a stack of small wooden crates marked 'FRAGIL.' Manzeppi happened to know those crates contained some priceless Ping porcelain he had been saving up in case of a rainy day. Regardless of the cost, Manzeppi was now so pushed to irrational levels of anger that he lifted up his walking stick, aimed, pressed a special knob on the end of it and fired gunpowder cartridge after gunpowder cartridge at the target until he had no more left. As the purple smoke and gunpowder haze cleared, to his astonishment Manzeppi saw that he had struck nothing at all but the crates – which promptly tumbled down in a perforated clatter of shards. He had no time at all to contemplate his loss before he heard another small detonation of smoke bomb, this time behind him. Furious at himself and Darkwing for falling for that old canard, he tossed the empty walking stick gun aside to spin and face his attacker as another basso profundo announcement came.

"**I AM . . . DARKWING DUCK!"**

And there, emerging from another cloud of purple smoke, stood one of the sources of Manzeppi's misery, the masked mallard flapping his purple cape as if he was some kind of bat. Well Darkwing had made a sad mistake this time – showing that infuriating, duckbilled face of his to the greatest and deadliest of all the Eccentrics! Manzeppi didn't need his walking stick to take out this pathetic, puny pest! He'd strangle the damn duck with his bare hands!

But Darkwing wasn't done tormenting the malevolent Manzeppi – he had something more to say as the Count charged/clambered over and through obstacles toward him.

"**AND . . . ."**

Manzeppi longed to shout a curse at Darkwing, but was past that stage and left with a guttural roar of outrage at the . . . the piece of purple poultry who stood smirking a hundred feet away, mocking him. How dare Darkwing taunt him with a dangling conjunction like that? Well if he thought curiosity would forestall Manzeppi's wrathful vengeance . . . .

"**AAANNNDDDD . . . ."** Darkwing repeated, grinning even wider this time.

As if Manzeppi needed to hear what else this miserable mallard had to say! The Count was so close now he could almost reach out to wipe that sophomoric smile off Darkwing's features. Conjunctions! Fine! He'd let the doomed duck have his little word game before Manzeppi crushed him into confit!

"AND?" the Count demanded.

"Aaaaannnndddd . . . ." Darkwing continued, ". . . . I'malsotheguywhodistractsyouwhilemypartnerssneakupandgetthedroponyouwithanet!"

Manzeppi was still unpacking that speedy sentence as the net dropped over him and Artemus Gordon topped it with a lasso loop, pinning the Count's arms to his sides while Eek and Squeak, who had been waiting for precisely this moment, let go with both barrels of full fertilizer right on the Count's upturned head. Blinded by bat guano, Manzeppi never saw the punch Artemus Gordon aimed at one side of his jaw or the flying kung fu kick Darkwing aimed at the other, connecting at the same time. But the result was still the same. The Count howled in agony as his miasmic molar went flying out of his mouth, he teetered and swayed in the net and then went down with a dramatic crash.

"**Timber!" **Artemus called, wiping a bit of bat excrement from his fist and looking down at their fallen foe. After all this time, Count Manzeppi had finally been the one captured and was finally going to be brought to justice – hard to believe. Just so he could have a souvenir in later years to remember this moment by, Artemus went over and used the rag he'd wiped his hand on to pick up Manzeppi's sticky, icky tooth and put it in his pocket. Darkwing must be feeling equally triumphant, adding that this would have looked good for a press clipping if they'd been back in his own home world and could find someone with a smartphone.

"Er, what's a smartphone?" Artemus asked.

Darkwing looked a little uncomfortable at the question, as if he'd said something he probably shouldn't have.

"Oh, it's this device that makes people act stupid," he answered ruefully.

"I think Manzeppi's incapacitated enough for the moment," Artemus said, though he tightened the net and fastened it with a few more loops of lariat just to be on the safe side. Still, the agent's curiosity was aroused. "A device that can make people act stupid? Does that really work?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Darkwing sighed and rolled his eyes.

Artemus decided once again not to press for more details. At that moment, another, far more troubling thought crossed his mind.

"What's the matter?" Darkwing asked, seeing the other man's worried expression.

"I was just thinking . . . ." Artemus frowned, "If Jim hasn't come to rescue us by now, it might be . . . because he can't."

That reminded them both about Manzeppi's earlier boast that he'd sent Megavolt after the others. They looked up and stared at one another in horror. Artemus would have liked to take more precautions to secure the prisoner, but right now there wasn't a moment to lose!

"We've got to get back to that train!" Darkwing gasped, visions of Gosalyn, Morgana and Launchpad at Megavolt's non-existent mercy.

Racing as fast as they could without falling into the pit-trap or any other Eccentric snare again, they exited the castle at last, wondering what was the quickest way they could take to get back to the Wanderer if they didn't have the horseless carriage or horses. They had just made it to the boundary of the derelict amusement park when they saw galloping toward them a welcome sight indeed – James West riding his stallion Blackjack and Launchpad McQuack on top (and trying not to fall off) of Artemus' gelding steed. As soon as they drew close, Jim and Launchpad halted the horses and leaped off to greet the other pair with whoops of joy and hearty shoulder claps, although Darkwing managed to dodge before Launchpad could completely knock the wind out of him again. Jim, never the most effusive one when it came to revealing his feelings, said little but Artemus could see the weariness and deep relief in his eyes when he and Launchpad had realized that Darkwing and Artemus were still alive and unharmed. Darkwing and Artemus were every bit as happy to know Megavolt had been de-powered and wrapped up securely (with some rubber hose for good measure) and that everyone back at the Wanderer was okay and would be overjoyed to see them all returned and safe. Well, _almost_ everyone . . . .

"Uh, those engineer guys might not be all that happy to see me," Launchpad said sheepishly, admitting that the Wanderer's back railing and the boneshaker bicycle embedded in it _might_ be looking a little the worse for wear as a result of Launchpad's heroic efforts. "Good to know I still haven't lost my touch, though!" he chuckled and shrugged as the rest of them agreed he was a railroad duck like no other.

"And better yet, Jim – you're not going to believe this," Artemus grinned and gestured grandly with both arms, "but we even managed to capture Count Manzeppi this time!"

Eager to regale Jim and Launchpad with the tale of their daring escape from certain doom and their conquest of one of their most dangerous enemies, Artemus and Darkwing carefully led Jim back to where they had the Count stashed.

Or rather, where they'd _thought_ they had the Count stashed . . . .

"You were right, Arte," Jim sighed as the empty net and fallen ropes in the big storage chamber came into view. "I don't believe it."

Artemus and Darkwing ran over to where they were _sure_ they'd left Count Manzeppi sufficiently secured. Only then did they notice another set of overturned crates and an open trap door with a deep, dark tunnel leading down into the bowels of the earth. Just _how_ deep, Jim tried to determine by dropping a handy bit of hardware down the hole. All of them listened carefully, but no one heard the object land or make any sound after it dropped.

"Doggone it, Jim!" Artemus scowled, rubbing the back of his head where he'd lost the lock of hair, "he was right here not twenty-five minutes ago! I was so sure we had him this time!"

"We'll get him someday," Jim said, giving Artemus a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "The important thing is, we're all safe, Dr. Denver is safe, the kids are safe and it's going to be awhile before we have to worry about him again. From the look of this place, he'll think twice before he comes back to give anyone any trouble. But we're all too tired to do any spelunking right now, so let's go home."

"Home . . . ." Launchpad and Darkwing both murmured and nodded. "Yeah, let's . . . ." Darkwing added, while Eek and Squeak put their two cents in overhead.

Together, with Artemus and Darkwing on Artemus' horse, and Jim and Launchpad on Blackjack, and the pair of bats flying patrol, six weary heroes returned once more to the Wanderer.


	11. Coming Home To Roost

"**DAD!**"

A pint-sized, red-haired torpedo struck Darkwing straight in the midriff with enough force to knock him backward onto his feathered rump the moment he dismounted from Artemus' horse Mesa.

"Hey, watch the ribs, kiddo!" Darkwing rasped as he returned her limpet-like hug and gave her a fatherly kiss on the forehead. "I missed you too!" Then he noticed the tears welling up in his little girl's eyes and realized how worried and afraid for him she'd been, both before and after the adrenaline rush of taking down Megavolt had worn off her. As afraid as _he_ had been all this time for _her_ sake . . . .

"I thought I'd never see you again!" she sniffled, burying her head in his shoulder as far as she could before breaking down and sobbing.

Morgana was almost as tearful and grip-of-death-ful as Launchpad and Honker helped Darkwing up with Gosalyn still held tight in his arms. As they all came together, Darkwing closed his eyes and thought that these were the best hugs he'd ever received, even if he could barely breathe . . . .

Watching them from a short distance away and wiping a bit of moisture out of the corner of one of his own eyes, Artemus turned to see his Secret Service partner watching the family reunion as well.

"You know, Jim," he said, "if you told me yesterday I'd be moved to tears by the sight of a bunch of ducks hugging, I'd've never believed you."

"No, you wouldn't have," Jim jibed him a little. "Let's just hope we can come up with a story that Colonel Richmond will believe and that leaves out most of the details. Maybe we can say Count Manzeppi hit us and Dr. Denver with a hallucinatory gas or something."

Artemus groaned and gave his grinning partner a sidelong glance. From the sound of it, he was going to have until at least _next _April Fool's Day to live this one down! It'd been an amazing adventure, all told, and he still had to fill Jim in on everything that had happened to him and Darkwing, and learn everything that had befallen Jim and the others after they'd been separated, though they'd given each other the condensed version on the horse ride back. But after Mesa and Blackjack had been put back in their stables, brushed down, and given oats, some extra treats and apologies for the double burdens they'd had to carry in the past day, and after a grimacing Orrin and Silas made a temporary patch of the Wanderer's water tank and disentangled the bicycle from its twisted rear railing (while Launchpad hid from them, to be on the safe side), it was time to see off their extraordinary visitors from another world – or was it dimension?

With a still-snarling but much-subdued Megavolt strapped onto the roof of the Macawber family vehicle like a piece of hostile yellow luggage, and Launchpad and Honker, Eek and Squeak all ensconced in the back seat, Darkwing and Morgana shook hands with James West and Artemus Gordon and said their goodbyes and thanks for what each of them had done for the others. Gosalyn, still holding onto her Dad with one hand gave Jim and Arte each a half-hug to thank them and apologize for all the trouble she'd been putting everyone through. Then Jim thanked _her_ for coming up with a way to save him and Morgana from Megavolt, and Artemus had made a remark about Gosalyn being a chip off the old block that almost made her chirp.

"Yep," Darkwing said proudly, ruffling her red pigtails, "my little girl is going to make one heck of a superhero someday! Someday in the very, _VERY_ far future, that is!"

Gosalyn's smile faded and she looked up at Darkwing with the most disappointed, widest eyed, pleading puppy expression she could manage.

"Does that mean I'm still grounded for two weeks?" she asked tremulously.

"Of course not, sweetheart," Darkwing said with affection before his face turned stern again. "It's going to be _four_ weeks now! And no allowance, either!"

"Aaawwww _Daaadddd_ . . . ." Gosalyn moaned, dropping the cute puppy act.

"But maybe I could ground myself a bit too, so we could spend some more time together, and I could give you a hand with some of that homework?" he offered.

Gosalyn nodded and gave Darkwing a big hug again before the two of them headed for the vehicle, where an impatient Archie was leaning on the horn again.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Jim asked Morgana with some concern, knowing she was going to have to cast the spell that would get them all back to St. Canard.

"Yes – I've had enough rest," she said. "And I am anchored to our home world through my magic. Returning to my anchor point will be much easier than bringing us here was. Thank you for everything you did for us." The tall sorceress leaned over and gave each Secret Service agent a quick peck on the cheek before waving and walking over to enter the vehicle with the rest. With most of the group waving goodbye, Morgana lifted her arms in the air, concentrated and opened the green mystic portal for Archie to drive through that led to St. Canard on the other side. Jim and Arte watched while the spider-driven horseless carriage rode forward and vanished, leaving behind only a shimmer until even that last trace disappeared. They didn't hear Darkwing's final whispered, slightly peevish comment or Morgana's response.

"Jeez, Morg, they're nice guys and all, but you didn't have to kiss them!"

"Now, Dark darling, don't be jealous. Besides, even if they are a bit . . . well . . . homely, that's no reason not to be nice."

Morgana and Darkwing also didn't hear the snippet of conversation between the two Secret Service agents as their vehicle left the Wanderer and Wyoming Valley far behind.

"Imagine that," Artemus chuckled. "All this tumult because of a kid trying to take on criminals while only age ten! Crazy, huh?"

"I know," Jim agreed. "_I_ waited until I was at _least_ eleven!"

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

In spite of everything, the Wanderer's back railing and steps were substantially straightened out by the time the train pulled into Pittsburgh. Dr. Denver was all too happy to keep the more inexplicable facts about his rescue from Count Manzeppi a secret as well. It would be better for all involved if the truly strange aspects of what had happened never came out. Arte was still chagrinned that Count Manzeppi had managed to slip out of their grasp one more time though.

"And to think," Artemus complained, holding up the diseased molar that was all he had to show for the encounter, "_I _was the one who'd thought we incapacitated him enough!"

"Well it's a good thing for him that you knocked his tooth out!" Dr. Denver said, pointing to the object in question. "If that hadn't been extracted, why, the infection could have gone deep and killed him!"

Artemus and Jim both looked at the molar and then gaped for a moment at Dr. Denver.

"Do you mean to say," Artemus gulped as a horrified tone entered his voice, "that by removing this we actually _saved_ Manzeppi's life?"

"Certainly," the dentist affirmed.

Artemus slumped down onto his favorite sofa in the varnish car and put a hand to his own cheek in dismay.

"I knew this case couldn't have a completely happy ending," he groaned.

After their farewell with the grateful Dr. Denver, Jim and Arte spent some time going over the more incredible events that they would have to 'modify' before making their report to Washington. Aside from the bit about teaming up with a family of talking, humanoid ducks and sentient bats and spiders, they agreed they'd better not mention magic spells, the horseless carriage, or any of the other incomprehensible otherworld terms and technologies Darkwing and the rest of that crew had talked about.

"Do you know, Jim, they have some sort of device in their world that can be used to make a person act stupid?"

"Aw, c'mon, Arte," Jim replied while getting up to answer a light knock that came on the varnish car's back door. "You don't need a scientific gadget to make people act stupid! There have been plenty of things around for years that can do that!"

"Such as?"

Artemus clammed up and got the answer to his own question as Jim ushered a gorgeous blond woman in fancy but tight and flamboyant evening dress into the varnish car. And right behind the delightful creature holding onto his partner's hand was an even more delightful one:

"Lily!"

"Oh, Artemus!" The woman of the older Secret Service agent's dreams gave him an affectionate embrace. "When Jim and Colonel Richmond telegraphed me to tell me that you'd both be in Pittsburgh while my new play was here, I couldn't wait to see you!"

"Jim and Colonel Richmond . . . ?" Artemus gasped, wrapping his arms around her. It might be the beginning of April rather than February 14th, but he got the feeling that little duck girls and cherubs weren't the only ones trying to shoot little arrows at people. With not much more than a quick salute, Jim took his own fancy date off for the evening and left his partner with Lily Fortune to enjoy a bit of privacy on board the train. It might not lead to marriage, but it would still mean at least a few hours or days for Artemus to spend with the woman he loved. He'd take every minute he could get.

Side stepping into the Wanderer's little pantry alcove to fetch a special bottle of Lily's favorite wine that he kept stashed for just such an occasion, Artemus glanced over and was horrified to see that his cookbook was still there and still open to the objectionable page he'd left it on only a couple of days before. He hoped none of their . . . _different_ . . . visitors had seen it! It didn't seem to him likely that they had - there hadn't been any indication of it, anyway. He tore the recipe sheet out of the book and scrunched it into a little ball as he carried the bottle of wine in where his lady awaited, tossed the ball into a handy dish and lit a match to burn that page up before uncorking the wine and pouring a glass for Lily and one for himself. Lily was puzzled by his destruction of what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary recipe.

"A penny for your thoughts, Artemus dear," she said as they clinked glasses and she raised the wine to those lovely lips to take a sip.

_Yes, there were plenty of things that could make a man act stupid, all right . . . ._

"I was just thinking," he grinned, "that genius is over-rated!"

Then he took the glass out of her hands, put both goblets down on the table and embraced her in a long and passionate kiss . . . .

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

"Awwww," Morgana cooed as she and Darkwing closed the door to Gosalyn's slightly messier than usual bedroom after reading her a bedtime story and making sure she fell asleep. They hadn't had long to wait – they were all still exhausted from their adventures the day before, Gosalyn especially, so she'd dropped off with less fuss and fight than usual. "She looks just like a little angel!"

An angel surrounded by hockey sticks, sports balls, comic books, discarded gum wrappers, cracks in the plaster and every dirty dish she couldn't be bothered to return to the kitchen, Darkwing thought, but he had to agree.

"She's not the only one who looks like an angel," Darkwing said, planting a big smooch on the most enchanting of all the Macawber family before Launchpad came thumping up the steps of the Mallard house, interrupting the intimate moment.

"It's good of you to come over here while we're both grounded," Darkwing said as he and Morgana held hands, trying not to act too passionate in front of the sidekick. "Sorry we have to miss the rest of that museum exhibit though . . . ."

"But DW, that's what I came up to tell you!" Launchpad held up the evening edition of the _St. Canard Chronicle_ in his hands. "You don't have to miss it! It says here in the paper the museum show's been closed by the city safety inspectors and won't reopen for at least a month! Something about them having to redo the whole thing because of too many blocked fire exits! You and Morgana can still go and you can even take Gosalyn!"

"Er, maybe not Gosalyn . . . ." Darkwing said. He'd had enough of _that_ scenario to last him a lifetime! "But Morgana and I can go . . . and I'd like to take you dates in a few other places," he told her. "Would you mind the St. Canard swamp?" he asked sheepishly. "I sort of promised Eek and Squeak we'd take them someplace where they could get all the mosquitoes they can eat! As a, um, reward for saving me and Mr. Gordon, of course."

"The swamp!" Morgana gushed happily, ruffling Darkwing's feathers in a way he very much liked. "Oh, Dark, you're such a romantic!"

With Launchpad taking the hint to go hang out in the kitchen and make some popcorn, Drake and Morgana enjoyed a few more intimate moments on one of the pieces of living room furniture that _wouldn't_ rotate and spin you into a tunnel leading to the bridge's secret hideout if you accidentally pressed it the wrong way. It was a lovely evening, and yet, as it drew to a close, Drake saw that something was troubling Morgana.

"Not another foreboding vision?" he hoped, asking her about it.

"No, nothing like that, thank goodness!" Morgana shook her head. "It's just that I – I can't help but feel we've forgotten something . . . ."

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

Count Manzeppi's mood should have been improving, but it wasn't. Though he hadn't been able to save his tooth, with or without red onions and oolong tea, the absence of the infected molar felt better than he'd expected. The throbbing pain that had been plaguing him for weeks was almost gone and the facial swelling that had disfigured him more than the loss of a tooth as it turned out was almost gone altogether. True, he'd been foiled once again by James West and Artemus Gordon . . . . and those damnable ducks too! But once again the great Manzeppi had gotten away and would live to destroy the foe another day. True, also, his favorite home hideaway had been seized, looted and all but destroyed, government agents now crawling all over it and hauling away what remained of its stolen treasures.

But no! Manzeppi could not plot his enemies' destruction at leisure or commence rebuilding his criminal empire. Not yet. Not while he was currently being pressed into servitude as if he, Count Carlos Maria Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi were a mere scullery slavey! He quivered at the indignity of it all as his tyrannical taskmaster banged on the wall of this underground tunnel shelter to make a new demand.

"I SAID," Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring Macawber shouted, "WHERE'S MY TEA AND TOAST!"

Count Manzeppi would dearly love to tell the old geezer exactly what he could do with his tea and toast, but Manzeppi had already learned what happened if he annoyed the duckish warlock too much.

"It's coming right up, you old coot," the Count muttered under his breath.

"WHAT'S THAT, YOU YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPER?" the Macawber elder asked menacingly.

"I SAID IT'S COMING UP!" Manzeppi yelled back, then yelled some more as Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring swatted him on the rump with a bolt of magical energy. "SIR!" the Count added.

"IN MY DAY, YOUNG LADY, WE WERE BROUGHT UP TO RESPECT OUR ELDERS! THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO TURN US INTO FROGS A TIME OR TWO TO TEACH US SOME MANNERS!"

That Count Manzeppi was neither young nor female, the old warlock didn't seem to notice or care. What he _did_ care about was being fetched every single object or comfort he wanted while reclining in one of the few pieces of good furniture Manzeppi had left, and keeping his sore, webbed foot propped up on a cushion. What Manzeppi cared about was that he did not want to find himself sitting in a pool of water and catching flies with his tongue – again.

And as for some of the stories the impatient oldster made Manzeppi sit and listen to over and over every day pretending to pay attention . . . . There was a reason this particular Macawber was nicknamed Loring the Boring.

Yes, if for no other reason than his current situation, Count Manzeppi would still seek his revenge on James West and Artemus Gordon and Darkwing Duck . . . .

Someday . . . .

"AND MAKE SURE YOU BRING ME PLENTY OF MARMALADE WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!"

"YES!"

Zap!

"OUCH! I MEAN, YES SIR!"

"AND THEN I WANT THIS PILLOW FLUFFED!"

It was going to be a long, long year . . . .

**THE END?**


End file.
